#only saying that because most of my sets are vertical we love a switch!

[stylesrecord]

LOVE ON TOUR – Palm Springs (1/31)

[moxfirefly]

So an ask @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak got really has me thinking. So I’m hoping on the train and giving my own two cents on the guys with an s/o who’s ovulating and what goes down.

@tmntspidergirl did her own version so give it a looksie and some love!!

Liste my peeps, wow, what y’all getting yourselves into

Donnie KNOWS, ok and it’s not just cause he’s the smarty pants of it. You once told him when you were on your period and boy just made the calculations and knows when the next cycle happens

But here’s the thing, the little issue. The first time you spend a week with him post menstruation and ovulating?

You know somethings off with him. He’s acting all off and he’s so grabby with you especially in public (like in front of his brothers) I mean this man is straight up making you sit on his lap, he’s pawing at you and when did he become ok with kissing you like t h a t in front of people?

Don’s a private lad when it comes to you and his alone time

But he’s got you pinned against the sink one night while you were doing the dishes. And he’s so tall like when he leans down and nuzzles your ear and inhales the life out of you when he noses your hair the shivers my dudes

‘I wanna put a baby in you’ he whispers against your ear

Well you just broke Leo’s tea mug

‘Excuse me??’ You try to turn your head but he presses you hard against the sink and his hands slide to your stomach

‘You heard me’ and it’s such a territorial tone like you have to make sure this isn’t Raph and some fever dream. But not it’s Donnie, your big lovable nerd and why are you so for this idea all of a sudden?????

Let’s just say when you end up in his bed, Donnie absolutely railing the life out of you. Not once, not twice but an amount that leaves you so close to drunk on your own dopamine that you’ve forgotten how to speak properly

You don’t question when this large fucking terrapin is holding your legs to your chest after spilling himself in you.

He’s breathing so hard, sweaty and grinning ‘Don’t move love, keep all of me in you’

You nod breathlessly not even registering what he’s just said but boy do you not move an inch until he tells you that you can

Drunk Drunk Drunk off your scent

I can’t even begin to explain

He’s in a stupor almost

Mikey.exe has stopped working

He’s lowkey confused tbh like yes you’re hot but f u c k what is it about today that has you so HOT™️

He’s so transfixed by you that you gotta ask

‘Ok do I have something on my face? Is there a stain on my shirt??’

Mikey is just eying you up and down and shakes his head

He scoots closer to you and he’s not rocking that goofy smile. He’s legit studying you. It’s so bizarre seeing him so hyper focused and serious.

And obviously you’re somewhat alarmed when he straight up starts sniffing you

Your neck, your shoulders, your chest

When he starts trailing down your stomach and you’re alarmingly looking around the living room cause MIKEY PEOPLE

It takes all of your resolve and actual praying when he just straight up buries his face in your clothes crotch and the ‘holy shiiiiiit’ and full body shudder that leaves him to not moan out into the open living room

The movie is background noise at this point and whatever has taken over your orange clad boyfriend is somewhat worrisome but not at all un welcomed

Especially when you find yourself trying to muffle your noises because Mikey had straight up slide you down the makeshift couch and onto the floor. Crawled over you and begged to be inside of you

Begged, like he was going to die if this didn’t take place immediately

It’s so not you and his usual style, there isn’t the usual flirting and playful dirty talk Mikey gives you. He straight up telling you that he will Protect you, if anybody goes near you or tries something against you, omg they gonna be d-e-a-d. This lad has never been this serious.

He’s promising you everything. You’re his, and he is yours.

‘Your my mate baby, you’re my mate oh god’ and how is such a simple word turning you into actual goo??

My condolences to your cervix seriously bro r.i.p pour one out for that homie

But here’s the thing and ima do it to y’all

Sub!Leo has entered the chat

This is a time period you must take full advantage that he’s not gonna lowkey embarrassed about his subby tendencies

He’s ready for you to boss him, use him, make him beg and plead for you

All with the most stupidfied and endearing precious look on his face

So obviously you’re convinced that maybe he’s having one of those days™️ cause Leo has days where he needs to to take over (we can delve into that subject later my dudes)

And in this state he’s been all afternoon while visiting you has been weird but naturally y’all end up in the bedroom

And you end up riding him (which he absolutely fucking loves when he’s being a freaking sub)

And god he’s so mesmerized with your hips tonight, grabbing them. Pushing you harder down on him (because he’s allowed per your commands) he wants to bury himself so painfully in you, he’s a man possessed about it

He begs for it, begs for you to allow him to push into you more and more ‘please please’ he says and he looks like he’ll go mad if he doesn’t

So you allow him to switch you guys up

He’s on top but he’s still not running the show

‘You’re so good baby- fuck Lee yes yes’ and he is hiiiiigh of that and your scent how are you smelling this good, feeling this good? It’s more than the usual senses that he’s experienced with you

And I hope you don’t become a complete puddle when this lad starts pleading

Pleading™️

Fearless Leader himself yes you heard it here first folks

He’s pleading to cum inside of you, an absolute mess, he wants to mate with you, he wants to make you round with his child. He wants all of this only if only you allow it

He coos just how beautiful and glowing you would look and wow does the very thought of it make his thrust so pathetically sloppy

You’ve never felt so empowered then watching Leo cum completely undone and bury himself so far in you unwilling to pull out because he wants every last drop in you

‘I’m yours, I’m yours...please have me’ he sounds almost drunk

You hold him so close, kiss all up on him and tell his trembling self you’ll gladly carry half of him and you inside of yourself

Your legs have left the chat

You don’t know what being vertical means

Hi possessive Raph™️

Hi territorial Raph™️

The only time on the clock is baby making time

He is living, breathing and eating up your scent

Hooked on it, that shit is a drug to him and if you think his sex drive was high before

R.I.P to you my friend

This man isn’t letting you leave the bed unless it’s for a bathroom break and some Gatorade and a protein bar

No area is safe in your house. He is going to fuck you in every part, against and/or on any possible surface

It’s just a primal lightbulb turned on to the brightest setting in his head

All he knows is that he has to mate you, mark you and knock you up

All his dirty talk is focused on knockin you up. He wants to make a mother out of you, he wants you big and round with his child

And it ain’t gonna be one 😅

Big bara wants a bunch and he’s gonna do everything in his ability to give you a good amount in the first round

Seriously I fear for your well-being

But you’re absolutely OBSSESED with this side of him 🥴

[lilbabycee]

tatiana // steve rogers 🌸

↳ summary: you've made a series of mistakes concerning steve and you're not going to stop now, although these mistakes may leave you in some unprecedented circumstances.

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 5.4k (i got carried away with this one)

↳ warnings: explicit smut, mildly dubious consent, emotional manipulation, cockwarming, dad!steve

↳ author’s note: some more soft dark steve bc we all need it 🤤 this may be one of my favorite steve fics i’ve ever written, so please enjoy! 💖 

The white doves that tell the tales residing inside the heavy book that weighs down your lap flutter downwards, blowing little wisps of air onto your skin as your fingers slacken and the cover of the hardback hits the pages with a soft thud. Perched on the edge of the too-big queen-sized bed with the too-soft mattress, you take a second to breathe deeply, cherishing these moments of peace because these breaths haven’t come easy to you recently. Your head falls into one of your hands, your bones as exhausted as your mind. You have to remember that it’s ten in, hold for five, and ten out just like he taught you, but the thought escapes you as your lungs struggle to intake air in anything but huge, gasping breaths. It feels like someone is sitting on your chest, a weight so heavy having settled where your heart should be, dragging your body further to the ground than gravity.

But you’re unable to help the sincere albeit shaky smile on your face when you admire her, your breathing starting to even out until it’s shallow and steady. Round cheeks squished against the pillow, one of her chubby little hands gripping your sleeve and the other tucked underneath her head, she’s a vision - truly a beacon of light in what is otherwise a neverending spiral into darkness. Carefully and with all of the finesse that your shaking hands can muster, you pry her fingers off of your sleeve one by one, although you know that the chances of her waking up are slim. You love telling her that she can sleep through an earthquake or a hurricane because it always - without fail - elicits that same sweet little giggle from the sleeping girl in front of you and a whiny “Mama!” , her beaming smile enough to warm your heart for the rest of your life.

Tatiana’s long eyelashes - all too reminiscent of her daddy’s - fan against her face while she dozes, her mouth wide open and her soft snores the only sound in the room. Her closed eyes shield you from the most disarming baby blues that never let you forget exactly who her father is, and the thought alone makes the blood pumping your heart run cold, an involuntarily shudder passing through you at the feeling.

He’s just over in the next room and you know it - the apartment is almost entirely silent but you know. He’s waiting, expecting you, knowing that you’ll come to see him at the end of the night. Tatiana’s enthusiasm and your insistence upon reading her to sleep hopefully went unnoticed by him - being alone in a room with him always makes your skin crawl and your heart beat erratically but you know that he can smell the arousal that pools between your thighs regardless of the attitude that you give him on the surface.

Not wanting him to come and look for you, you decide that you’ve spent enough time in this massive bedroom - a converted guest room - that’s far too large for a 3-and-a-half-year-old. You lean down over your baby, hand coming up to brush a thumb over her cheek and then run a hand through over the top of her head, pushing the stray baby hairs out of her face. You make sure to place the book on her nightstand so that you don’t have a fiasco like the last time that you couldn’t find it. It ended up underneath the couch and your daughter was in a mood for the whole day, pouting and sulking when her father told her that he couldn’t find it. It was a gift that was given to you by her favorite uncle, Tony, when she was born: Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Tony considers it essential in developing her love for reading and stories at an early age, and you didn’t argue, the gift so sweet and thoughtful that you make sure to read at least a little to her every night. Making sure to turn her nightlight on, you rise and head to the door, looking back over your shoulder one more time to see her cocooned in her blanket and being swallowed by her mattress. The image alone makes a chuckle rise in your throat and you shake your head before flipping the light switch and closing the door.

Your back is pressed against the hard lines of Tatiana’s door, and your gaze falls on the one at the end of the hallway. It’s been left ajar, almost as if he’s inviting you inside. You know that you shouldn’t - common sense is telling you that you should steer clear of that room for the sole reason that you know exactly what or rather who lays in their bed behind it. Before you even realize what’s happening, a deep baritone is summoning you to, “Come in”.

Silently, you curse yourself, aware that it’s too late to take back any chance of escape that you may have had prior to this, but you press your palm against the white wood of the door so that it slowly slides open. The sight that greets you makes you want to claw at your skin as much as you want to claw at his. The idea of vertical red lines scratched down his back makes you bite your lip and really assess the gorgeous man stretched out in front of you.

At a closer listen, you’re aware that he’s actually been playing music, soft jazz melodies floating through the air that ease your anxiety just a little. His bed is directly across from the door and obnoxiously large and comfortable - it used to be covered in pillows and have a softer mattress and extra blankets, but that was before you moved out. Now, the pillows are somewhere in a closet, as are the blankets, and the mattress is significantly harder than it used to be, although not uncomfortable. But the bed isn’t what’s making your mouth water and a fire ignite in your stomach. It’s the man atop it.

He’s stretched out like some kind of god - picture Dionysus - with the bone structure and physique of Adonis, and you think that if the heavens opened up right now and took him back you wouldn’t bat a single eyelash. The only sources of light in the room are the twin lamps that emanate a bright, white light. The light catches all of the planes and angles of his face, the shadows and highlights alike showing you all of his best features. And he’s absolutely the picture of relaxation, back leaning against the headboard, right hand behind his head and the left holding a book.

He’s only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt that’s slightly rucked up to show the line of abdominal hair that leads down to what you really want, but he may as well have been wearing nothing because you wouldn’t be able to tear your eyes off of this man if you tried. And even from the few meters that separate the two of you, you can feel the intensity of his blue gaze behind his glasses - it always feels like he’s stripping you slowly, carefully, methodically in his mind. Not only is it disconcerting but it makes you feel things that you can only associate with uncomfortable desire. His eyebrow quirks up and the hand that was behind his head slowly slides his glasses down the bridge of his perfect nose until they drop to his side. His lips quirk up into a smug little smirk that you simultaneously want to punch and kiss off his face.

“Hey,” he says your name like a prayer, lips wrapping around the sound and it draws you into the room - you’re almost floating towards him.

You swallow, willing yourself to say something instead of just standing there, staring at him like an idiot. Relaxing your stance, one of your hands finds your hip and the other runs over your hair that you’re sure is a mess from playing with your daughter earlier.

“Hi,” you reply quietly, almost a whisper. He mirrors you, running a hand through his golden hair and then over his clean-shaven jaw - Tatiana prefers it that way.

“She asleep?”

You nod, finding yourself on the edge of his bed as he puts his book face down next to him. Inhaling deeply, he runs his large hands over his powerful thighs and even that small motion has you distracted and you squeeze your own thighs together, shaking your head disapprovingly at yourself. Absent-mindedly, your hand comes up to toy with the pendant of the simple necklace that you always wear, and you watch Steve’s eyes as they follow your movements. They zero in on your exposed décolletage and darken, his tongue running over his plush pink lower lip again. Pulling his phone from underneath his pillow, he makes a point of checking it before glancing back up at you.

“What?”

“You checked the time, sweetheart?”

At the shake of your head, he flips his phone around to show you that it’s four minutes past midnight.

“Shit, are you kidding me?” you groan almost childishly, rising hastily and making your way towards the door. “I’ve got work tomorrow - I wasn’t supposed to stay this late.”

“Hey, hey,” Steve quickly moves to stand up and placate you, rounding the bed to come and stand in front of you with his hands out. “It’s not your fault - Tati was excited to see you, you can’t blame her… or yourself for that matter. She’s been asking about you for weeks now, talkin’ everybody’s ear off about it. She doesn’t get to see us all the time, you know that-”

You know it all too well. Frankly, you’re proud of your success - there’s no reason that you shouldn’t be. You were lucky enough to land a key internship at Stark Industries as a college student that really gave you a leg up in a lot of your future professional life. You were already set to inherit what is now your publishing company from your father, but you were unsure about whether or not that was something that you wanted to devote your life to. Sooner rather than later, something clicked for you and that was when you decided to pick up your father’s life’s work, reassuring him that it would be left in capable hands so that he could eventually retire peacefully. Not that he doesn’t still hover because he does, giving you advice whether you want it or not and making final decisions in places where you’re torn. Initially, there was a lot of discontent within the company concerning your father’s replacement: he is something of a legend in the publishing world and even you were terrified that you wouldn’t be able to live up to their expectations. You had to prove that you deserved to have the CEO position that your father appointed you to, show people and yourself, more importantly, that you were worth being there as much as any other employee. It took some years, but you love your job, so much so in fact that your mother - a former dentist - is often concerned that you’re working yourself to an early grave.

Unfortunately, this leaves little time for you to spend with your family, especially your daughter. Your job requires an exorbitant amount of international travel, meaning that your house barely looks like a home because most weeks, it’s empty.

Sighing, the thought in itself makes a grey cloud hang over your head to shroud you in despondency. Steve notices and the corners of his lips turn downwards as he boldly approaches you and gently grabs your upper arms. His touch in itself makes you soften and he dips his head to try and catch your eyes. When he does, he gives you a crooked, boyish smile that makes the crease in your eyebrows disappear and your lips curve into a shy grin.

“I know it’s part of your job,” Steve’s voice drops even further, hands rubbing up and down your arms, thumbs stroking the cotton of your shirt. “But she misses you… why don’t you just stay over?”

This makes you freeze in place and try and free yourself from his grip, but he only tightens it, that same compassionate look in his eyes.

“Baby,” before you can reprimand him for using the pet name, he anticipates your next words and shushes you so that he can continue, “I bet Tati would love to see you when she wakes up tomorrow morning. Imagine the look on her face - she’d be overjoyed. Just think about it.”

You know what he’s doing and still attempt to wrestle free, but his hold on you is solid though it doesn’t tighten any further.

“Steve,” you sigh in what sounds like defeat and you can see the spark of hope ignite in his eyes. “You know why I have to get home. I’ll come back tomorrow - I’ve got the whole week here before I head out again-”

“But then what?” he says your name pleadingly, though his tone sounds almost accusatory. “I could be gone on a mission at any time and then some of the team has to take care of her - or your parents, or your sister, or your brother. Look, I try to be here as much as I can but I’m not planning to hang up the shield for a few more years-”

“And I’m not expecting you to, I never said I was, Steve,” you fire back, taking a step towards him with your arms still pinned by your sides. “I get that your missions are unpredictable and unexpected - you can’t help that - but there’s no way that I can lose these clients overseas, especially since I basically just got this position-”

“So you’re saying that you’re prioritizing your job over our daughter?” his voice rises slightly, but his eyes don’t harden at all.

“That’s- are you kidding me? That’s not at all what I’m saying. I want to provide financial stability that’s enough for the rest of her life and with both of us working, she’ll have more than enough for her and her kids and probably her kids’ kids. God, why would you even -”

“You know what she told me yesterday?”

This makes the fire within you die down just a little, your heart skipping a beat when you register the intensity of his gaze and the gravity of his words. You swallow, hands starting to clam up and lips starting to quiver. He knew what reaction this would give you, effectively shutting you up.

“Wh-what- I mean, you know...what did she say?”

Steve suddenly looks away from you, releasing your arms and pacing, turning his back to you. Letting out a distressed sigh, he shoves his hands deep into his mop of blonde hair, planting himself on the edge of the bed and shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m sorry, it’s not my place-”

His voice is quiet but also muffled by his hands, but now he’s piqued your curiosity so you can’t just let this go - especially because it concerns the single most important person in your life. Without thinking, you rush over, getting on your knees before him, right in between his open legs. Tentatively, your hands land on his knees and your thumbs trace small circles where they lay.

“Steve,” you call out softly. Nothing happens for a moment - he remains silent and the jazz song is underscored by his ragged breathing. The feeling of nervousness that already set in your stomach drops further and further, blood running like fire once again through your veins. When he finally does look up at you, he looks torn, like a lost golden retriever. He knows very well what that look does to you and you’re more than aware of it yourself, yet you find that you are unable to look away from those eyes that mirror those of your daughter so perfectly.

He says your name quietly, his significantly larger hand covering one of yours that rest on his knee. Though you hate to admit it to yourself, it makes the suspense of the situation so much more bearable.

“It’s just,” Steve hesitates, unable to maintain eye contact with you and sitting up from his hunched position, “she asked me why you were never here…”

Your heart sinks, another lump stuck in your throat.

“And you said…?”

“A-All I did was tell her the truth,” he shrugs, exhaling another shaky breath before looking at you with glassy eyes, “I told her that you’re really busy with work all the time, but every time you’re not at work, you’re trying your best to spend all your time with her.”

Steeling yourself not to cry, you look away from his face and lower your gaze to stare at the carpet.

Ten in, hold for five, ten out.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say lightheartedly, knowing full-well that there’s more to it. Steve manages a chuckle, but it sounds forced so you decide to shut up and listen.

“But then she said that it was okay because she has Nat instead.”

There it was.

You’ve always known that your daughter has been brutally honest - as all children often are - but this is a pain unlike anything that you’ve felt before. Your fingers come up to your chest to clutch at your breast, dying to massage away the aching of your heart. Hot trails of fire spill onto your cheeks and the moment that Steve registers them, he takes advantage of your position on the floor and tucks his hands underneath your arms to drag you up to sit on his lap like a doll.

You’re curled up on top of your ex-fiancé’s thighs, his hand pressing the side of your head into his hard but surprisingly comfortable shoulder, and you’re sobbing your fucking eyes out at the harsh but very real words of your three-and-a-half-year-old daughter. Steve says your name comfortingly and wraps his arms tightly around your body, rocking you back and forth while he shushes you and whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

It definitely hurts to hear: the hectic, distant, fast-paced and frankly insane life that you’ve been trying to convince yourself isn’t your reality is indeed the truth and even your daughter can recognize that. You’re ashamed of yourself, Steve’s kind words only making you feel so much worse.

Between sobs, you attempt to explain yourself but Steve just keeps quieting you, rubbing circles into your back. All he says is ten in, hold for five, ten out.

Once you’ve calmed down a little, you realize the vulnerable spot that you’re in - one you shouldn’t be in. You squirm in his arms like you’re about to get up but once again, he holds you firmly in place.

“I need to head out, Steve- I’ve gotta get some time alone to think about-”

“Or,” he draws out the word, voice having hardened significantly, “you could stay here and when our daughter comes to wake me up in the morning, she’ll find you here too.”

Jerking your head back, you’re genuinely shocked at his audacity.

“Steve, let’s get this straight,” you start, feeling much more confident and calm than before, “if I’m staying here, we are absolutely not sleeping in the same room. We’re not having a repeat of what happened the last time-”

“And what was so bad about the last time, hmm, sweetheart?”

He runs his index finger over your jawline, dragging it down the length of your neck and down to your exposed collarbones.

“If I do recall,” his voice is much quieter but also deeper, “you thoroughly enjoyed what we did the last time.”

His one arm keeps you anchored to him, the other moving from your chest to cup behind your neck and pull you to meet his lips.

“Steve-”

Your protests die in your throat as you feel his soft lips on you, your eyes fluttering shut as he starts to press wet, open-mouthed kisses on your throat. He works his way up to underneath your ear, biting in places that you know you should be worried about him marking before he nips at your earlobe with his perfect teeth and traces the outer shell of your ear with his tongue. It makes you whimper softly, the sound making your eyes shoot open and snapping you out of whatever trance he’s put you in, your spine going rigid.

“We’re not doing this,” you say firmly, placing your hands flat on his chest and pushing backward. He looks resigned but nods, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head instead.

“Fine, but I still insist that you stay here,” he presses. “Not for me, but for Tatiana - think of her. She’ll love it.”

Biting your lip, you consider it for a moment before sucking your teeth and staring heavenwards.

What’s the worst that could happen? And if it’s just so that Tatiana can see you with her in the morning, it’s more than worth having to deal with Steve for a night.

“Okay, fine- fine. You’re gonna need to let me borrow some clothes. If I’d known that this was the plan, I would’ve packed more appropriately.”

Steve’s self-satisfied smirk irks you and he shifts you off of his lap, standing up so that he can disappear inside his walk-in to search for something for you to wear. You can’t help but notice that as he’s walking, he has to adjust the crotch of his sweatpants which aren’t really hiding anything. You clear your throat and look away, the heat that previously ran throughout your body all settles in your core.

Something that smells suspiciously like Steve - soap, pine, lavender and something citrusy - smacks you in the face, making you scowl when the clothing falls to reveal a grinning Steve who looks very pleased with himself leaning against the closet door.

“C’mon,” he gestures to you with one hand, the other shoved in his pocket. “I’d love to get some sleep, so get changed.”

He turns on his heel and heads to another door on the other side of the room, walking inside as he yells, “And make sure to let people know that you aren’t gonna be in tomorrow. We’ve got plans, doll.”

Plans?

The door clicks behind him, and you heave a deep sigh, wanting to fall through the bed. Quickly, you disrobe, folding your clothes and placing them onto one of the armchairs in the corner of his room next to the record player. Looking at what he brought you, you shake your head in incredulity.

This cheeky motherfucker.

He’s only brought you a t-shirt - a white one with the Captain America insignia on the back, the same one that you bought for him as a joke on the first birthday of his that you spent together. You purposely made sure that it was loose enough for you to wear to bed by itself too because he wears all of his t-shirts in a size too small - not that you’d ever complain - and you hated grabbing one of his shirts, putting it on, and finding that it fit you just like one of your own.

You pull it over your head and look back to the empty space on the bed.

No shorts either.

You scold yourself because you should’ve known that he’d pull something like this. But he’s promised that things won’t go to levels that you’re not comfortable with, so you just sleeping in your panties and this t-shirt should be fine.

Maybe?

Entering the bathroom, Steve hands you the toothbrush that he keeps here for you, his own buzzing in his mouth, and you thank him silently with your eyes as you take it from him. Your eyes travel up his body, narrowing because he’s taken off his shirt and his sweatpants, and he is only wearing a pair of grey Calvins, distracting you and making even more moisture pool between your thighs. Steve evidently notices your not-so-subtle staring and tries to hide his smile under the guise of brushing with renewed vigor.

Get a hold of yourself.

The two of you finish up in the bathroom, Steve walking behind you and burning holes into your bare thighs. He turns off both of the lights on either side of his bed as you crawl underneath the heavy comforter, curling in on yourself. You turn away from him, hoping that it indicates that you’re not up for talking and just want to sleep. He moves around a little bit before getting in with you, and suddenly your space is crowded by pillows?

He remembered.

It makes the butterflies in your belly that have been dormant for a long time start to wake up.

Rearranging the pillows in the fashion that you like, you try and put today’s events behind you and make a silent vow to yourself that you will do better, you will try harder to become a better and more present mother to your daughter.

In fact, you’re so absorbed in your thoughts that sleep begins to pull you into its clutches, your eyes drooping lower and lower until your breathing evens out and you’re just on the cusp of it when a strong, hard body molds itself against your back. Any semblance of sleep that you felt just moments ago slips away, your eyes widening.

“What are you doing -”

His hand clamps around your mouth, promptly cutting you off before his other warm hand runs down your front, down your t-shirt before creeping underneath, all while leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You’re thrashing now, knowing that your efforts will be futile because as much as you can tell yourself you don’t want this, it’s everything that you’ve ever wanted.

It was a mistake like this that gave you the best thing to ever happen to you.

His lips touch your ear at the same time his hand flicks your peaked nipple, making you buck your hips back into him. “Oh, sweetheart, look at you.”

He gropes at your breast for another few seconds, his gentle yet firm grip doing nothing to ease the desire that you have for him. A sharp pinch to your nipple sends a lightning bolt right to your cunt. It then moves even further downwards, past down your belly button, hovering over where you need him the most.

“So needy, aren’t you, baby?”

He slips the fingertip of his index finger underneath the band of the lace, snapping it so that you gasp against his hand.

“I’ve been able to smell you all night,” he buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and the groan from deep within his chest vibrates against your back. Arching your back into him, he uses both of his hands to push your hips into his, hooking his thumbs over the band of your panties and sliding the rest of his fingers underneath. “You wet for me, sweetheart?”

You can do nothing but nod - this is a mistake but you wish that every mistake that you ever made felt this good.

“Good girl,” you can hear his grin while he removes his hands and his index finger slides against your covered core. “This all for me?”

You nod again and he moans loud , louder than the sounds of your desperate panting. The jazz record continues to spin on the needle.

Slowly, he runs a finger up and down your folds, feeling the slick that has dampened your panties. He thrusts up into your ass in response, wasting no more time.

“Please-”

You choke out the word, needing him to extinguish the flames that he’s ignited inside of you.

“It’s okay, doll - I got you.”

And he does, yanking down his underwear over his cock and wrapping his hand around the base. In your eagerness, you shove your own panties down your hips, causing Steve to rumble a laugh and click his tongue at you.

“Baby,” he exhales, evidently amused at your whiny demeanor. “Did you really think you could trick me? Comin’ in here, all shy and nervous but still tempting me… knowing exactly what you’re doin’, hmm? You wanna be a family again, sweetheart?”

With this, he guides the head of his dick to your entrance, rubbing up and down the sensitive skin, taking his time. And in all the time that you’ve known him, Steve is not the type to be patient.

“All you had to do was ask.”

And then he slams into you - really and truly because you jerk forward at his powerful thrust, eyes watering at the sensation. He’s so big that the stretch precariously toes the line between pain and pleasure but just falls on the side of being enjoyable. The sound of skin slapping sin is lewd and filthy and you love it.

Steve’s deft fingers quickly find your clit and press down, rubbing circles into the small nub. Coupled with Steve’s labored breathing and moans in your ear, it doesn’t take you long to be right on the edge of your peak.

“I can feel you, doll,” he whispers, teeth grazing your ear once again. “You gonna cum for me, make a mess all over my dick?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak, eyes squeezed shut.

“No, no, no, baby,” he breathes. “Look at me while I make you cum - I want you to know who’s making you feel this good. Tell me who’s about to make you cum, baby.”

Opening your eyes, he flips you around so that you’re facing him, throwing one of your legs over his and he does it all without ceasing his motions. Your body warms in embarrassment, however because you’re chasing your release, you swallow any pride that you may have and give him what he wants.

“You are-”

An exceptionally hard thrust makes you squeal and Steve grunts in disappointment. He’s got one arm encircled around your waist, the other gripping your throat bruisingly tight.

“I didn’t fucking hear you, sweetheart.”

“You are,” you try a bit louder, your ability to form coherent sentences significantly impaired.

“What was that, doll?”

“You are,” you yell emphatically, the pressure being applied to your clit temporarily pushing the words out of your mouth in exactly the way you know he likes it.

He bounces you on his cock, pulling you into a heated kiss before drastically increasing his speed, every thrust upwards poking at your g-spot.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he licks a stripe up your throat and your hands scramble to find purchase on his slick skin. Your nails dig into his back, painting those thin crimson lines he likes so much. “Just like that.”

A strangled moan crawls out of your throat but he shushes you, squeezing your neck tighter.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “Cum for me, doll.”

And so you do - your thighs quiver and your lips part wide in a silent scream, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your muscles contract around Steve’s dick which sets off his own orgasm but almost stubbornly, he keeps his eyes on your blissed-out face while he spills his own release into you.

Once the two of you come down from your high, your heart racing and your breath erratic, Steve’s tight embrace does nothing to quell your growing anxiety at what the fuck you’ve just done - again.

“Should keep you like this forever,” Steve pulls you into the heated skin of his chest and buries his face into the space between your shoulder and your neck. His cock is still buried inside of you. “Fucked full of my cock for the rest of your life. I bet you’d like that, baby.”

His words make tears spring to your eyes - guilt - and you can’t even give him a response, so all he does is exhale deeply, kissing the top of your head and settling into the sea of pillows around you.

“Night, sweetheart.”

And then he promptly falls asleep, no more words exchanged between the two of you. Truly you can do nothing more but wrap your arms around his neck, the weight of him inside you making it difficult for you to get comfortable, and try to get some rest. The jazz record slowly starts to come to a close.

The moonlight shines through the slits of Steve’s blinds, depicting white horizontal lines across his back. It makes him look like art, you think, running your hands slowly up and down his bare skin. As you do, the light catches on the ostentatious rock on your ring finger.

↳ tagged: @literaturefeen​

[iatethepomegranate]

We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 7

In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, is loved a lot by the Nein (including lots of Shadowgast in most chapters), and fights to protect vulnerable people from going through what he did.

Chapter summary: Time is of the essence. Caleb cannot let it end this way. He will not let more lives be ruined by Trent Ikithon.

Notes: CW: Caleb's backstory but REALLY BAD, references to child abuse, vomiting

More detailed warnings and a chapter summary can be found in the end notes on AO3.

If you need to skip, you can probably read up to Caleb telling Beau to use Step of the Wind. There is a reference to past child abuse a few lines above that. If that's an issue, stop reading as soon as Caleb flags down a villager.

Chapter title is from Eight by Sleeping At Last again.

****

Chapter 7: For the innocent, for the vulnerable, I'll show up on the front lines with a purpose

They landed. The stormclouds were heavy overhead. Caleb hadn’t witnessed a storm in Blumenthal for a long time, and it disoriented him.

“Caleb, which way’s north?” asked Beauregard.

He grounded himself, breathed, pointed. Beauregard angled herself in a northeastern direction and started off. He followed close behind; Astrid and Wulf were half a step behind him on either side.

Caduceus had mentioned an orchard. Caleb had his head on a swivel, but he couldn’t see any fruit trees. And the buildings seemed slightly… off.

Oh. Oh no.

Caleb felt sick.

“Wait,” said Astrid. “We’re in the wrong place.”

Caleb held himself very still, silently counting eins, zwei, drei, fier, fünf… “Okay.” He breathed deeply. “Around me, please.”

Of all the times for a teleport to send them off-target. He wanted to scream, but instead, he focused hard on every little detail Caduceus had provided. And he cast again.

Again, they landed. The orchard trees were in sight. Caleb pointed them in the right direction again. The road was muddy, squelching as they ran. There were a handful of people still in the street, making last-minute preparations for the storm, and they definitely looked askance at a group of (somewhat) strangers tearing down the street.

“Astrid, what’s the name of the family?” asked Caleb.

“Baumann.”

Caleb caught the nearest villager who didn’t look too freaked out, switching to Zemnian. “Excuse me. My name is Caleb Widogast. I am a teacher at Soltryce Academy. We are looking for the Baumann family.”

The man he had stopped looked him up and down for far longer than Caleb could stand under the circumstances. “What’s your business?”

“We need to discuss Nico’s tuition this year,” said Astrid. “He was set to graduate, but the seniors may need additional support after the departure of Master Ikithon.” She held out her hand. “Archmage Astrid Beck. I am Ikithon’s replacement.”

“All right. What’s the rush?”

Caleb sighed, because he had to let something out. “I had not wanted to speak of this in public, but if we must… Master Ikithon was arrested a few months ago for abusing his students. Nico and Felix have been missing since just before the arrest. We have located Felix, but we have concerns about Nico. This is time-sensitive.”

“This Master Ikithon did something to the boys?” The man’s face didn’t give much away, but he pointed down the street. “Head to the end of the road, turn right, and keep going until you see the house with the cabbage patch.”

“Thank you.”

They ran. That had taken far too much time. Caleb should have been pulled the abusive teacher card from the beginning. Fuck.

“Beauregard, Step of the Wind? We three can fly.”

“Got it.”

Caleb, Wulf and Astrid cast Fly on themselves, and Beau began to fucking book it. She was technically faster than them, even with flight, but she only pulled a little ahead. If they were too late, there wasn’t much she could do alone.

There was an odd scent in the air. Caleb wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, until Beau yelled over her shoulder, “I smell smoke!”

They turned the corner and pushed onwards, and soon it became clear looking for cabbages was the least of their problems. There was a house on fire.

Time stretched, before Caleb breathed and it snapped like a bowstring. They were coming up fast, and there was barely any more time to think.

“Wulf, find the boy,” Caleb said. “We’ll get inside.”

“I see him.” Wulf broke off towards a barn, where there was a young man half-hidden, staring at the flames. There was no time to determine his condition; that had to be up to Wulf.

They reached the house. There was a thick plank of wood jammed against the door handle. Caleb cast Telekinesis, threw it out of the way.

Beau charged ahead.

“Wait!”

Beau stopped. Caleb used the spell to throw the door open, and there was an explosion of flame outward, which would have hurt. Belatedly, rushing to open the door may have been a mistake, but there was no time to think about it. They raced inside and crouched low, coughing from the smoke. They could barely see, aside from flickers of orange light all around them. The heat was unbearable.

“I’ll start on the fire,” said Astrid, throwing out a Ray of Frost at the staircase. Aside from the roaring of the flames, there were not the noises Caleb could remember. It was almost… too quiet.

Beau got out her fan. “Split up?”

“I’ll go upstairs.” It would be safer for him to go. He could control the flames better than she could with her limited-use fan, or her Belabour. Best to keep her close to Astrid. “Be careful of backdrafts.”

She punched his shoulder and crawled deeper into the house, while Caleb ducked towards the staircase he could barely see through the thick smoke. Nico must have expended most of his spells to have burned the house this quickly.

Caleb had to douse and climb over a fallen beam to get up the stairs, pulling his shirt over his mouth and nose for a bit of protection. He could not shake his dread.

The smoke was thicker upstairs. Caleb’s eyes watered. He tamped down what flames he could see with his Control Flames cantrip. His hand found a doorframe. Door open, no backdraft risk. He peeked inside, squinting against the roiling smoke. But he couldn’t see far enough for just a glance. He cast Control Flames again, pushing down as much flame as he could.

He crawled inside the room, his hands quickly finding the frame of a single bed. Probably Nico’s. He felt around for a moment longer to be sure, but it was unlikely anyone was here. He moved on, coughing hard enough to tear his throat. His eyes streamed from the smoke. He cast again. But it would take time for the smoke to clear, even as the flames slowly dwindled around him.

Caleb crawled down the hallway, finding another doorframe. Felt for the door. Closed. Rested the back of his hand against it. Hot. Opening it was too risky without improving the conditions up here. Even if he was safely away from the backdraft by using telekinesis, if someone was on the other side of the door, they could get hurt.

Caleb aimed a Disintegrate spell for the ceiling above him and hoped it would punch a hole all the way through. Memories of what to do in a fire were slowly filtering through his scattered mind. Vertical ventilation mattered in a building fire.

He let the spell loose, and it punched a hole the size of Caleb’s head all the way into the sky. A horrible thought occurred to him, even as smoke began to escape and oxygen equalise, slow as it was.

Caleb knew a lot about fire. In a situation where a backdraft was possible, it was highly unlikely to find survivors. Caleb tamped down the flames around him again, which had grown with the presence of more oxygen.

Then he stepped back and Disintegrated the door, taking a huge chunk of it away. He kicked the jagged remains open and crawled into the room. Control Flames once more.

He reached out, and found a shape on the floor. Edged closer. A hand. Blackened. It twitched, and then fell still. Caleb gently felt the wrist for a pulse. Couldn’t find one.

He edged around the charred body, and found a second one. There were no discernible features left. Just a vague human shape, burned to a crisp.

Caleb flung out his Control Flames cantrip again, dousing the flames in the room. Then, he pulled out his copper wire. “Beauregard, call off the search. They are dead. Get outside. Astrid and I will finish putting it out.”

Beauregard’s reply was instant, raspy. “Okay. I’ll check on Eadwulf. Don’t take too long.”

Caleb was thankful she didn’t say anything else. He kept working his way through the upper floor, snuffing the flames until all that remained was smoke slowly curling towards the hole in the roof. His throat was raw from coughing. Fire gone, he opened all the windows he could find to help ventilate the building and make it safer for Astrid downstairs.

He found her in the kitchen, icing the flames over. “I heard.” Her voice was equally shredded.

Caleb wordlessly helped her put the rest of the flames out. They stepped out of the house. Beauregard had reached Wulf by now, who was kneeling in the grass, cradling Nicolaus.

They approached. Nico’s eyes were glazed over, unfocused, and he lay limp in Wulf’s arms. Astrid twitched.

“He got a little aggressive, but I handled it,” said Wulf. “Now he’s…” He looked up at Caleb. “Like you were.”

A muscle was working in Beauregard’s jaw, but whatever was on her mind, she said something else. “Take me back to the office and bring Caduceus. I’ll watch Felix.”

“Astrid,” Caleb said flatly, “do you have any teleports left?”

“Ja.” She approached Beauregard, moving stiffly. “I’ll be back.” She and Beauregard vanished.

Wulf gazed up at Caleb, his face serious but giving little away as it often did. “Lionett told me what you said.”

Caleb took a deep breath, which itched terribly, forcing him to cough again. “We have one thing left to try. It’s… a long shot.” He knelt in front of Nico, who did not react to his presence. “Do you…” He coughed again. “In your experience with me, do you know if he might…”

“You would sometimes react to things,” said Wulf. “Not often. I don’t know if you could make sense of anything we said. Astrid said you don’t remember anything?”

“I do not.” Caleb sighed; if there was even the slightest chance Nico could hear them, he had to say something. He switched to Zemnian, in case that would be easier for him to process on the off-chance he heard anything. “Nico, my name is Caleb, or Bren. Either is fine. I know you are not well at the moment, but we are going to help you. I promise we will help you.”

There was no reaction. Caleb hadn’t really expected one. Wulf certainly hadn’t. They caught each other’s eyes again over Nico’s head. Wulf’s expression cracked, just a tiny bit. Caleb breathed deep, and Wulf did the same.

Caleb coughed again. Breathing really hurt.

Astrid appeared with Caduceus a few feet away.

Caleb got up, every part of him aching. His fingers were blistered. “Caduceus, let us walk and talk.”

“You do not have to go back in there,” Astrid said.

“I know. I am choosing to go.” Caleb pulled his Transmuter’s Stone from his pocket. “I have a trick I want to try.”

Her eyes fell to the ground. “All right.”

Caleb turned back to the house. Blackened. Smoking. But the flames were gone. He led Caduceus across the ash-spotted grass.

“Beau said it was bad,” said Caduceus.

“It is bad.” Caleb cleared his throat, painfully. “Will you be all right here?”

Caduceus nodded. “We both know I’m not the one to worry about.” He cast a low-level Cure Wounds on Caleb as they walked, and his throat and fingers felt a bit better.

Caleb went through the front door first. A fair amount of smoke had cleared by now, but the acrid scent of burnt wood remained. They headed up the stairs; Caleb used Telekinesis to move the fallen beams.

Light streamed into the upstairs from the opened windows and the hole in the roof. Caduceus looked up at the hole.

“Huh. You did that?”

“Vertical ventilation reduces backdraft risk.” Caleb led Caduceus to the second bedroom. Now that enough smoke had cleared out, he could see the reality of the room, the blackened double bed, compromised dresser, scorched mirror, the two charred human bodies on the floor, closer to the door than he had realised. And a very familiar stench of burned flesh.

Caleb swallowed against nausea, and knelt beside the smaller of the two bodies. “I can try to Raise Dead with my stone. Like Molly. I can only do it once.”

Caduceus knelt beside the larger body, taking in the damage. “Caleb.” He was about to tell Caleb how bad the chances were that they could fix this, and he really really could not handle hearing that from him. Him specifically. Caleb could not afford to break. Not yet.

“I know.” Caleb placed his stone on the woman’s chest. He had researched the Raise Dead spell since figuring out he could use his stone in this way. He knew the spell could close all mortal wounds, but would not replace body parts or organs integral to survival. If the Baumanns had died from smoke inhalation, this would have a higher chance of success. In this state…

Unlikely. But he needed to try. Caleb poured magic into the stone. Beside him, Caduceus placed a large diamond on the other body’s chest and prayed softly to the Wildmother.

Caleb’s stone shattered, and he could feel for just a moment a catch of something. Like he had snagged the corner of the woman’s soul.

“Frau Baumann,” he muttered. “I don’t know if we knew each other when we were children. My name was Bren Ermendrud, and I am here to help your son. He needs you. And this does not have to be your end. The world will be much poorer without you in it.”

The stone glowed, and he felt the soul drifting, snagged by the spell. For a moment, the soul seemed to dip, like it wanted to return. And then, as the stone shattered, it drifted away. He tried to grasp for it, but it slipped through his magic. And then it was gone.

The body was still just a body. There was not enough left of her for him to even recognise. The air was empty. Or maybe there wasn’t any air.

Caduceus sat back, shaking blackened dust of the destroyed diamond from his fingers, and raised his eyes to the window opposite them. “Wildmother, a terrible tragedy has happened here today. This is not the natural way of things. I know this is a huge ask, but… we would like to have these people back.” He waited. A full sixty seconds passed. Nothing changed. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Caleb.”

It was done. They had tried everything they could. And everything had failed.

The nausea crashed over Caleb once again. He tried to breathe, and smelled burnt flesh. He shoved a hand over his nose and mouth, swallowing hard.

Caduceus pulled him to his feet. “Let’s step outside.” He led Caleb out of the room, down the stairs, out the front door.

Caleb gulped the fresh air down. “Go to the others. I… need a… moment.”

Caduceus squeezed his shoulder and approached the barn, where a crowd was beginning to gather. Caleb walked, tightly-controlled, around the side of the house, just out of sight, and threw up on the grass. Wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Banged the side of his fist against the charred wood until he could think again.

Then he straightened, rolled back his shoulders, and approached the slowly-building clump of people.

Caduceus was doing most of the talking, with some input from a tense Astrid. Wulf had stood up, carrying Nico, who was still unresponsive. They were all out of teleportation spells, but Caleb had brought enough chalk and ink to draw a circle to the archives.

“All right,” Caduceus was saying. “We are going to take Nicolaus to Rexxentrum for care. I think we’re all a bit out of it after all of this.”

“Our gravekeeper will take care of the Baumanns,” said an older man, who Caleb recognised as the mayor. He’d avoided speaking to him last time he visited, so he had managed to not learn his name. “You take care of Nico, and send us updates as you can.”

“That can be arranged,” Astrid said, businesslike. “Thank you.”

“I’ll start drawing a circle to Rexxentrum,” Caleb said quietly. “May I use the barn? The chalk will vanish once we are gone.”

The mayor shrugged. “I suppose.”

Caleb stepped into the barn and cleared a ten-foot circle of hay so he could draw directly on the clay. “High Curator. It’s Caleb. May I bring Astrid and Eadwulf through the Rexxentrum circle? We will have Caduceus and a sick young man with us.”

“Hello, Professor. You may do that. If you are able to update me on your search on your way through, please do.”

Caleb would probably vomit again if he had to talk about it, but Caduceus could get the point across, probably. He knelt on the floor and began to draw the circle, honing down his focus so all he thought about was the next stroke of chalk and ink, and the specific detailing for the Rexxentrum Archives.

The others entered the barn seven minutes and thirty-two seconds into the drawing. “Caduceus, can you Send to Beauregard?”

“Can do,” Caduceus replied. “Hey. We’re coming through the Archives soon.” A pause. “She says she’s gotten Felix settled in a dormitory and is headed home to prepare for our arrival.”

“We should keep Nicolaus away from the Assembly, ja,” Astrid said quietly. “Until we think of something.”

“I have a spell for this, I think. Better to get away from here first.”

“Yudala wants an update on our way,” Caleb said.

“I’ll take care of it,” said Caduceus.

Caleb finished the last few strokes of the circle in silence. It came alight, and they stepped through.

He had to fight back the nausea again once they landed. Caduceus steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Yudala entered the circle chamber, taking in the ash-covered group and the catatonic boy in Wulf’s arms.

“The monks have informed me the other boy is safe,” they said. “Is this as bad as it looks?”

“It is,” Caduceus replied.

“Very well.” Yudala looked at Caleb specifically; they were smart enough and had enough access to Caleb’s past specifically to put it all together. “We’ll talk later. You all look exhausted.” They turned to Astrid. “I will send a formal invitation in due time.”

“We’ll see how much it panics the Martinet first,” Astrid said without inflection.

“I have my ways around him if need be.” Yudala led them through the archive personally, letting them out into the overcast afternoon. The storm was on its way here. “Get some rest. You have earned it.”

[scullydubois]

Only the Light ch. 5

read on Ao3 here. read the earlier parts here. 

Description: Mulder & Scully head to Aubrey, Missouri, but not without a few bumps in the road...

WC: 3,527 words

tagging @today-in-fic​

--------------------------

Five days. She was five days late. She had never been five days late for anything in her life. Why did it have to be this? Always the perfectionist, she double, then triple checks her math. For once, she hates being right. Five days off, no matter how many times she counts it.

She looks at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It shudders back at her. This is not possible, she thinks. Her cycle is always on time, and she hasn’t done anything lately near the type of activity that would get her pregnant. But by now, she knows better. Anything is possible, including the unthinkable. Especially the unthinkable. No amount of disbelieving can stop the force of the universe. No amount of believing can either, no matter how devout. These are truths she wishes she never learned.

It occurs to her that she sounds like her sister, which makes her chuckle to herself despite the dreary circumstances. That’s what a few weeks of living with someone can do to you. Then again, maybe it isn’t Missy who’s changing her. The voice in her head sounds more and more like Mulder these days. It scares her sometimes...how succinctly he can present his point of view, how she’d spent almost three decades skeptical and comfortable in this belief and now--less than two years later--she could almost believe him. Wants to believe him, no less.

Mostly though, she wants the truth. Which is what he wants too, but he has a preconceived notion of what he wants that truth to be, and won’t ever be satisfied, she thinks, until he is proven right. The thought that he might never have satisfaction makes her stomach ache. Or maybe that’s a symptom of her other problem...regardless, Scully finds that the notion of never getting answers to their quest makes her want to dissolve into thin air. The desire to disappear was new to her. How odd, to care so much it makes you wish you had never cared at all. This was new to her too.

But as always, she has to keep going, keep moving, keep working, keep her sanity. She puts in her earrings, swipes on her lipstick, and switches off the bathroom light. In her bedroom, she puts on her favorite pair of heels (the most comfortable ones) and zips the pockets on her suitcase. She rolls it into the kitchen, where Missy sips coffee with so much cream it might as well be milk.

“You’re here late,” Melissa remarks.

Scully nods. “I have a flight to Missouri.”

“Oh.” Missy sets the mug down. “Will you be home tonight?”

“I don’t know...maybe...hopefully.”

“Yet you packed a whole suitcase?”

Scully casts a stray glance at the luggage. “I like to be prepared.”

Missy frowns. “Don’t you think you should take a leave of absence?”

As if she didn’t hear, Scully asks, “What?”

“All this traveling and the long hours, while you’re recovering from trauma, no less. It’s not good for you.”

Scully purses her lips. “I’d rather be traveling and working than sitting around here all day.”

“You mean you’d rather be ignoring your feelings.”

Scully recoils, as wounded by this as anything. Being seen as you are never gets easier. It hurts just as much as when they were teenagers and Missy told her she was too nerdy to ever be cool (“and why would you want to be?” is the part she always forgets about), or when they were kids and Missy wouldn’t share her dolls because Scully was “not a good mommy.” If psychics were real, Missy would be one.

Not that Scully would admit that.  

“I’ll have plenty of time to process my feelings on the plane,” Scully half-jokes.

“But you won’t!” Missy retorts in good humor as Scully heads for the door.

And then, because they’re sisters and no amount of ill will could change that, Missy yells across the place, “Love you! Be careful! Bye!”

Scully laughs as she unlocks the door. “Bye, Missy! Don’t throw any parties while I’m gone.”

“Uh-huh.”

And so the natural balance of things is restored.

-------------------

She meets Mulder in the terminal at Dulles and they go through their usual morning flight routine: coffee & breakfast (a breakfast sandwich for him, a bagel for her), a stop at the kiosk for Mulder to buy sunflower seeds (he buys her a trashy gossip magazine for fun every time), and a brisk jog to their gate because why “waste time,” as Mulder puts it, by showing up early. There’s usually a remark from Scully about how she’s wearing heels so he needs to slow down, followed by him quipping that she needs to get her head in the game, at which point she reminds him that his legs are at least twice as long as hers.

“It’s not the heels that are the problem,” she teases. “And while we’re on the subject, you wouldn’t be able to pass a sobriety test stone-cold sober in these.”

“You get one cup of coffee in this woman, and suddenly the trash talk comes out,” Mulder says to the air.

“You better watch out or we’ll switch shoes and see how you like it.”

“You underestimate me, Dana Scully.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“I’d prove it, but it would only make you look even more vertically challenged than you already are,” he taunts.

“Not when the heels snap and you turn them into flats.”

“Touché.”

They have some form of this conversation before nearly every flight. It’s one of their rituals, a comforting familiarity in an often uncomfortable line of work. No matter what has happened, they can return to this harmless banter and find solace in it. Scully’s dad died, but they were here. Deep Throat got shot, but they were here. Scully was kidnapped, but they are here again. Scully wonders if the rest of her life will continue this way. She’s not sure if that would be a good or bad thing. She does not say any of this out loud.

They board their flight without any problem. Mulder lifts their suitcases into the overhead compartment as Scully scoots into the window seat. That’s a benefit to traveling with Mulder; he needs the space, so he always takes the aisle seat, leaving Scully with whatever gorgeous view the flight graces them with.

Of course, she usually isn’t looking. Unsurprisingly, Scully’s flight activity of choice is catching up on her reading. The case files, the morning newspaper, sometimes even the gossip magazine Mulder bought her if the case doesn’t keep her busy. She makes a mental note to give this copy to Missy when she gets back. Cheesy stuff like that always makes her smile.

Mulder’s preferred activity, on the other hand, is sleeping. He doesn’t do much of that and has come to realize that a plane is actually one of the easiest, most comfortable places for him to fall asleep. His in-flight power naps are treasured by both him and Scully, who gets through her reading uninterrupted and--every once in a while--uses the occasion to observe the way her partner’s mouth hangs slightly open and his chest rises and falls with his breath. She doesn’t get to notice these things when he falls asleep in their rental car, though that doesn’t happen very often. She’s the one who’s prone to dozing off during a late night drive past cornfields, or deserts, or plains. Perhaps it has something to do with comfort, or the lack of it. She could never sleep on the plane with all these strangers around. The car is much cozier.

The flight to Missouri passes uneventfully. Mulder snores, quiet enough that Scully is almost certain she’s the only one who can hear it. This makes her smile. She wonders, as she frequently does during moments like this, if he is dreaming and what he dreams about. Consorting with aliens, probably. Does he dream about her, or would she be a stranger in his land of dreams? He is no stranger in hers, that’s for sure.

Soon enough the wheels hit the tarmac, and Mulder wakes up almost instantly. Is it any wonder that he’s so at home in the sky? He’s been looking that way for most of his life. It’s the ground that’s alien to him.

Mulder pulls the carry-ons from the overhead bin and they exit the plane in the same way they spent the flight, silent but content. They agreed early on that they wouldn’t talk much on flights. It’s like talking in a library. They get the witty banter out of the way in the airport and leave the more interesting stuff for the rental car. Luckily, they never run out of things to discuss.

----------------

They move through the airport and sign for a rental car. Mulder takes the keys and they hop in, Mulder in the driver’s seat, Scully on the passenger’s side. Mulder cranks the engine. It grumbles in response.They are alone for the first time all morning.

Scully unfolds a pastel paper map they bought in the shop. “So you’re going to get on I-29 and head north,” she instructs. “Stay on that for a while, it looks like we’re fairly far away from Aubrey.”

“The Bureau couldn’t have picked a closer airport for us to fly into, huh?”

“I guess it’s more cost effective if we finish the last leg of the trip ourselves.”

“It won’t be when I use the Bureau credit card to fill up this piece of junk.” He flashes a smile toward the passenger seat, shifting his gaze off the road a moment to see if she’s smiling too.

She is, but she keeps her lips together, unwilling to give herself away so easily. There’s a telltale sparkle in her eyes though.

Mulder pulls out of the parking lot. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what Melissa was doing at your place the other night. You didn’t mention anything about her being in town.”

Scully purses her lips, keeps her eyes on the map. She’s been hoping that he would not bring this up.

“She’s staying with me for a bit,” she says as casually as possible. “She got a hostess job downtown.”

“So she’s living in DC now?”

“Essentially.” She glances at the map. “Go right.” Mulder listens.

“Where was she living before?”

“The West Coast. An assortment of places. She’s a bit of a wanderer.” She focuses on the map, hoping this will quell the conversation. Mulder doesn’t pick up this signal. He’s watching the road.

“She didn’t come around for your father’s funeral, did she? I don’t remember you talking about her.”

Scully frowns at the map. “No, she didn’t.”

Missy and their father’s relationship had been strained for a number of years. While he didn’t necessarily criticize his eldest daughter for her life choices like their mother sometimes did, he couldn’t understand them, and that was somehow worse. Once he realized that Melissa wasn’t going to fulfill the dreams he had for her, he essentially stopped checking in with her. Not wanting to disappoint him any further, Melissa let them fall out of contact.

This is different from their mother, who makes her opinion about Melissa’s decisions very clear. She’s under the impression that by being straightforward with her daughter, she can have some influence over her life. This has created an odd relationship between them: strained, but in frequent contact. Scully can relate.

“She wanted to be there, but we couldn’t reach her in time. It really upset her, she didn’t talk to my mom until my...incident.”

Mulder casts a sympathetic glance Scully’s way. “Ah.”

They merge onto I-29, their car joining the dozens of others already speeding toward some unknown destination. Mulder is reminded of a thought he often has while driving, and seeing as he’s made Scully share more than she wanted to, he decides to lighten the mood by saying it out loud.

“Driving has always reminded me of a dance,” he says, making brief eye contact with his passenger.

Scully raises her eyebrows, amused by this sudden change of topic. “How so?”

“It’s just a bunch of strangers trying to match each other’s rhythm and not step on any feet.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” Scully replies, unconvinced.

“I mean, it kind of is, isn’t it?...There’s so many songs about it.”

Scully laughs. “I take it back. If there’s so many songs about it, it must be true.”

Mulder smiles. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Speaking of music, Scully switches the radio on. A local country station blasts through the speakers, some song about drinking whiskey and pulling off a gravel road to watch stars from a truck bed.

“See?” Mulder jokes. “Height of romance.”

Scully turns it down, but doesn’t bother to change the station. Mulder now has the courage to ask the question he’s been holding onto.

“So why is Melissa staying with you? Why not get her own place?”

The edges of Scully’s lips tilt down. This again?

“We get along well, so we thought it would be nice. Like being teenagers again.”

Mulder braces himself for an unpleasant reaction from his partner. “So it has nothing to do with your abduction?”

Scully bites her lip.

“Jesus, Mulder.”

“What? You don’t offer information unless I ask. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He glances at her. She’s looking out the window.

“I’m okay,” she confirms.

“You know, if you just elaborated a little bit, I wouldn’t have to ask such prying questions.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “You sound like Melissa.”

“Good. She knows exactly how to handle you.”

“Handle me?” Scully straightens up in her seat. He waited until she was trapped to confront her. What a shitty move.  

“How to talk to you, I mean. You’re good at evading the point.”

“And you’re using your interrogation training against me,” she responds, clearly irritated.

“What do you mean?”

“You lightened the mood so I would trust you, then hit back with the toughest question yet. The one you really wanted an answer to.”

Mulder frowns. He had done this instinctively, not realizing that he was treating her like a suspect.

“I’m sorry,” he responds without hesitation. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Scully crosses her arms. “Of course not,” she says curtly.

The drive continues in silence, Scully only speaking up to give him directions off the map. The country station is the only one with anything to say, the singers drawling about booze, babes, and of course, driving. This frays Scully’s nerves. After one song too many about a pick-up truck, Scully switches the radio off.

Mulder wants to make a joke, but now is really not the time. Instead, he focuses on what he’ll say to her when they get to the motel. She needs to be pushed to talk, he knows this and deep down, she does too. He pushed her too hard though, in a manipulative way, and it’s up to him to straighten this out. He knows Scully well enough to know that if there’s no trust, there’ll be no openness. But that trust has to be genuine, not coerced or manufactured. He’ll have to work on building that up again if he wants to know what truly ails her.

The rest of the drive takes about 45 minutes. They don’t even discuss the case. Scully gives directions, Mulder follows them, and they end up in tiny Aubrey, Missouri. It’s just after noon when Mulder cuts the engine in their motel parking lot.

“You hungry?” he asks.

Scully clicks off her seatbelt, reaches for the passenger door. “I’m fine.”

Mulder watches her get out. He pops the trunk so she can grab the suitcases, then meets her at the back of the car. She lugs her suitcase out of the trunk and sets it down beside her. She’s mad at him, but she’s waiting for him. Mulder takes this as a good sign. He grabs his carry-on and shuts the trunk. It thuds closed, shaking the car.

Scully looks up at him. He expects her to say something, then takes the chance when she doesn’t--

“Hey, I know I overstepped my boundaries earlier, and I’m sorry. I just...I was supposed to protect you, and I failed. I’m trying to make up for that by looking out for you now.”

The expression on Scully’s face is as neutral as ever. She extends the handle on her suitcase and turns toward the motel.

She speaks to Mulder from over her shoulder. She’s not mad now, just insistent. “You didn’t fail.” She starts toward the entrance, rolling her suitcase along with her. Mulder jogs for a few strides to catch up with her. He wasn’t expecting her to take off like that.

“You became an X-file on my watch. That’s failure,” he responds.

“It’s my fault. Don’t guilt trip yourself.”

“Are you kidding me?” He freezes in the middle of the parking lot. Scully turns around and walks back to him, not wanting to have this argument here, or ever really.

“Mulder…”

He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Did Skinner ever tell you that I handed him a resignation letter while you were lying unconscious in the hospital? When I was pretty sure you were gonna die because of what I got you involved in?”

His eyes are dark, dark brown right now. Almost black, Scully notices. They’re not like this often. She sighs, then shakes her head. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“If you had--” he leaves a space for the word ”--that would have been it for me. With the X-files, the FBI, all of it. I couldn’t save my sister, and if I had lost you, the chase just wouldn’t be worth it anymore.”

And so they’ve found themselves sharing a very sincere moment in the middle of a motel parking lot.

“That’s not true, Mulder,” Scully tells him, her voice grating. “You would have been more determined to find the truth.”

He shakes his head. “I would have imploded. Collapsed in on myself. You’re the only thing keeping me in check, and the fact is, we wouldn’t have made it this far in our search if it weren’t for you.”

Scully isn’t sure how to respond. She’s adamant that he would have continued on without her, that he would go far and wide to find answers, and that he would get justice for Samantha and her if they had both fallen victim to the conspiracy. She’s also aware that this is not what he wants to hear at the moment, and seeing as he’s being so complimentary, it would be smarter just to let it go.

“Okay, Mulder. I believe you.” How often did he get to hear that, out of her mouth no less?

“Thank you,” he says, as if she’d just agreed that he would become king of the world, not that he would inevitably fall apart without her. This time, he leads the march toward the motel entrance. Scully follows in-step with him.

They’re heading up the entrance ramp when Mulder stops short yet again. Scully’s forehead bangs against his back.

“Ow!” he jests, letting out a laugh as she turns to her. “You okay?”

Scully’s face has turned as red as her hair, but other than that, she’s fine. She nods.

“I was going to ask if you ever heard what happened to Duane Barry.”

At the sound of that name, the color flushes itself right out of Scully’s face.

“Just that he died in custody.” Her voice is clipped.

“Oh.” Mulder scratches his chin, wishing that he hadn’t brought this up. Of course, this is Scully we’re talking about, and she’s not going to let him off easy.

“Why?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

An elderly couple scrambles up the ramp and walks around them, a bell ringing when they open the door. Mulder waits for it to shut before continuing.

“Well, um, he did die in custody. He stopped breathing shortly after I...uh, I squeezed his windpipe.”

Scully’s mouth drops open. “Mulder, you killed him?!” she hisses.

He moves closer, pulls her farther from the doorway. “That’s a good example of what I mean by collapsing in on myself,” he whispers calmly.

This is so frank that Scully almost laughs. She stares up at him in (relieved) disbelief. “How did you--”

“I don’t know, and I’m not gonna question it.”

Scully nods. “That’s probably for the best.” Their eyes meet, a shared acknowledgement of what they have been through together, because of each other, and for each other. The reality of it is at once tragic and downright comical. Mulder laughs, and then Scully does too.

“You may have gotten more than you bargained for when you walked into that basement office,” Mulder quips.

“Oh yes,” Scully confirms, her voice light and fluttery. “Oh yes.”

They make their way into the motel at last, ready for whatever the case has to offer. They may solve it, or not. Regardless, it is their line of work, and they will do it together.

~~thank you for reading!!

[garagnon-gallery]

Guide to Food photography

from culinary nutrition----

by Anna Pelzer

The Best Food Photography Settings Ever

Awesome Cookery Recipes for Your Next Project

Do you want to photograph your recipes but aren’t sure where to begin? Food photography opens the door to so many possibilities, such as Instagramming, writing e-books, product photography and more! It’s also a creative outlet and a fun way to work with color and express your own style. As a food photographer, I’m often asked for tips about how to take great photos. Let’s get started with this introduction to food photography!

Camera

First up, you need a camera! If you are just starting out, you may want to begin with a point-and-shoot because of its low cost and its ease of use. You can learn the basic functions of a point-and-shoot in a few minutes. (Like the name says, you just point and shoot.)

A DSLR is steeper both in price and in learning curve. I won’t get too technical, but DSLR stands for ‘digital single lens reflex’. This means when you take a picture, the camera opens up its shutter, the image reflects on to the camera’s internal mirror, and then on to the sensor. I started out using a point-and-shoot, but switching to a DSLR made a world of difference in clarity and color representation. A DSLR also gives you much more control in different light situations. For me, the price difference was worth it. If you have someone in your life who is really good at finding deals online, this may be a great way to find a used DSLR.

However, whether you are using a point-and-shoot, DSLR, or a phone camera, the basic principles of composition are the same.

Creating Bright Images

Shutter speed, aperture, and ISO are the three elements that affect the brightness of your images. Let’s talk about them in a little more detail.

Shutter Speed

The speed at which the shutter opens can be slowed down to allow more light to hit the sensor in low light situations. I do this on dark, gloomy days or in the fall when it gets dark early. However, with the shutter being open longer, there can be more blur and therefore you might need a tripod. As a rule of thumb, I shoot handheld at 1/125th of a second – you may have a steadier hand than I, but below 1/100th of a second, I use a tripod to avoid camera shake (this results in blurry images).

Aperture

Aperture refers to the width of the opening of your lens. Opening up the aperture lets in more light and also creates a shallow depth of field, resulting in more background blur. This effect allows you to draw the viewer’s eye to where the camera focus is. The lower the number, the wider the aperture. Thus, if you want a sharp focus in one area with a lot of background blur, you may choose a lower number such as 3.2 or 3.5. If you want background objects to be more in focus – a wider depth of field – you may choose a higher number, for example, 11 or 14 (remembering that this won’t let in as much light and you will need to adjust shutter speed or ISO).

ISO

ISO refers to your camera’s sensitivity to light. It is the element I would adjust last, after shutter speed and aperture, because having a high ISO can affect the quality of your image, creating “noise” especially in the darker areas of the photo. I try to keep ISO below 500, but in a dark situation, if I don’t have a tripod and my aperture is already wide open, I will go higher.

Using Light in Food Photography

My preference is to use natural light whenever possible. Professional lights are available however, I would recommend getting familiar with your camera and using natural light before making that investment.

The most important thing is to avoid, as far as lighting goes, indoor kitchen lighting as it casts a yellow glow on your food. If, however, you have food that you want to photograph and it’s 5 pm on a rainy day in November, and you have no choice but to use your indoor lighting, turn your white balance to the Tungsten setting. This will add more blue to your shot and neutralize the yellow.

Another thing to consider is which direction you want the light to come from. Back lighting is the technique I use most. I usually prefer to stand facing my subject on a table with a window on the other side of the table. I find the way the light hits the subject to be the most pleasing to my eye. But try letting the light hit from the front and the side and see what you prefer most! Depending on the weather and the type of dish I am photographing, my preference will sometimes change.

On a dark day, if using back lighting, you may need to bounce some light back at your subject to reduce shadows on your food. You can purchase reflectors designed for this purpose from photography stores. You could also use foam core, poster board, or anything on hand that is white. In a pinch, I have even used napkins and a roll of paper towel!

Composition

If you were to draw two vertical lines and two horizontal lines evenly across your image, dividing it into nine squares, then having the point of focus at one of the intersections adds compositional interest to the photo. This is known as the rule of thirds and is why you may see this on your camera or photo editing software.

One possibility would be to place your main subject near the front and have other blurred out subjects behind, to lead the viewer’s eye through the photo.

Vertical or Horizontal Photos?

Try getting one good shot of each. Vertical works well for Instagram and Pinterest, while horizontal is ideal for blogs, banners and Facebook.

Angles

There are a few common angles you can use to successfully photograph food:

A 45 degree angle shows food as if you were sitting down to eat it. This is one of my favorite angles, as it shows a beautiful texture. There will usually be more focus towards the front of the dish.

Shooting from top down (directly overhead) can show the entire dish in even focus (if everything is the same height), but you lose some of the texture.

A straight on angle can be used to show height if, for example, you are showing a stacked sandwich or a drink.

Styling

A crucial point to food photography is to have your food looking its best. I like to add some raw vegetables or herbs alongside cooked foods to add more freshness to the dish, especially if the meal is brown, such as chili. I soak herbs and greens in cold water for about 30 minutes before using and remove any wilted ones. I add garnishes for color and interest, preferably ones that show something that went into the dish – such as a basil leaf in a pesto.

Plating

If you are making steaks and one is perfectly browned and looks better than the others, put that one in front or on top and make it your camera focus.

In food photography, full bowls are desirable. Even if your normal serving of soup only fills up half the bowl, fill it up for the photo! I stop before it reaches the point of overflowing, although you may want to experiment with drips – many people make that part of their style. It can be helpful to use smaller plates, bowls and other serving pieces in food photography, as large ones can overwhelm the food and make it more difficult to make those full bowls. sauces can soak into the food

When you are setting up your shot, reserve some sauce to add once you figure out your perfect angle. I always take a few shots before adding dressing to a salad because the leaves can start to wilt quickly from the oil and acid.

Best Food Photography Props

Use neutral props that keep the focus on the food. Avoid busy, distracting patterns on plates as the food can become lost in the photo. My favorite dishes are gray or white and matte, so there is no glare shining back at the camera and the food is what stands out.

Another thing I highly recommend using is a wooden background board, which you can purchase from Etsy, My favorite board was made from an old barn door! With wooden boards, I again look for a matte finish to reduce glare, as well as interesting textures.

I prefer to use clean backgrounds so the focus is entirely on my dish. However, you may want to display some of the ingredients around the food to show part of the cooking process. Other options for adding interest include colorful napkins, flowers or unique serving utensils. Check out secondhand shops for some great vintage finds.

Also try using a hand model to show interaction with the food!

5 Suggested Props for Beginners

Wood background board or large cutting board

Monotone plate and bowl

Vintage cutlery (check out thrift shops)

Cloth napkin or a dish towel

Stemless wine glass or Mason jars for smoothies or parfaits

Do not let a lack of props or a hand-me-down camera stop you from creating. You can create amazing art on a plate just by having fresh and colorful food displayed in your own unique style. Remember that good food photography takes time to master and it’s OK if you don’t love your photos right away. Practice as much as you can and enjoy the process!

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[mcrmadness]

Pink, amber and coral :)

Ask game: 20 colour asks.

Hello, and thanks for the ask :D (I read this to the tune of a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy book title :D)

---

pink - which is your favourite animal? zoos or farms?

Cats! And especially tigers!

And oh, the second one is a good question! I do enjoy zoos and animal parks but I just get to those quite rarely. I think Finland has only one actual proper zoo, and it's in Helsinki, and the last time I visited was in 2002 or so when I was 11. The rest here are more of animal parks which sometimes have some more exotic animals in them, e.g. a snow leopard, but mainly they have more common animals that exist in the Finnish nature as well - or they have all kinds of different ungulates which are easier to keep and set up the exhibits for.

But I think I have to say I like farms more than zoos, as long as it's not intensive farming where animals become numbers in the system instead of individuals with names. And since I am a horse groom who is occasionally dreaming of other animal related jobs, especially zookeeper's job, I still would prefer an animal park or farm animal park if it means I get to also interact with the animals from the ground instead if behind bars or glass. I really like to hang out with animals and interact with them and pet/scratch them if they like it, and I think I'd be miserable working at a zoo where I would have to only watch them.

---

I'll put the rest under a cut because I, again, could not stop talking :D

amber - can you drive? if not, how do you get around?

Yeah, I can drive. I got the driver's license a couple of months after I turned 18 (in 2009). I was planning on getting it on my birthday but I failed the first test and had to do it again, and it meant I had to take a few more lessons before I was allowed to try it again. But then I finally made it - and also never forgot the roundabout traffic rules again because it was one of the reasons why I failed the first test :D

I also got a car before getting the driver's license, and my current one is my second car. It's an absolute lifesafer to own, especially in my city which is not that big but has even worse public traffic system and too many uphills to every direction. I don't love anything as much as the feeling of not having to run after busses and stress over if I'll be able to catch one or not, because I'm always running late. With my own car I'll always have a ride, even if I'm running late despite it.

I also often choose to drive to other cities instead of public transport. It's just the feels of freedom. I live in east Finland and for some reason it's always more difficult to travel horizontally than vertically in Finland, so you often have to switch busses or trains several times, or use both, and the timetables might not always line-up nicely, so it's very stressful to try and find something that would match. But with a car you can just... hop in your car and drive and you're there without worrying about switching to other vehicles.

---

coral - which is your favourite disney movie? who makes the better movies, disney or pixar?

The Lion King, definitely. I saw it from a VHS shortly after it came out and have loved the movie ever since. It's also the only (original) Disney, of the ones we had on VHS, that had the music I absolutely adored. I realized this only when I was already an adult and found out Hans Zimmer made the score for the film. Also the "musical numbers" are better than in most films, and I usually hate musicals.

I hyperfixated on the Lion King when it was released on a dvd (at least in Finland) in 2003 when I was 12, and I bought it as well as the sequels and just, well, hyperfixated for some time :D

I think Pixar makes better movies than Disney. I have been a "fan" of Pixar ever since Toy Story came out, altho, I haven't seen any of the newer Pixar nor Disney movies since the early or mid 2000s. I think The Incredibles is probably the last one I saw? Except for Toy Story 3, that one I have seen and it was actually great, too. And MOnsters University.

I think the reason why I was always more drawn to Pixar than Disney films were the stories. I had some of the original Disney princess movies on VHS as I was growing up and I always hated them, they were so boring? I preferred the animal movies over movies about humans, and I also often was so annoyed by the music in all those movies, apart from The Lion King and 101 Dalmatians - which I didn't even have on VHS ever but borrowed it from my cousins sometimes.

Now, as an adult, as I look back at those Pixar movies, I have realized that they probably fed my aromantic side a lot. Most of the old Disney movies were about a princess finding a prince in the end, meanwhile the princesses being extremely boring as characters. But Pixar movies were (are?) all about the adventure and friendships (or a found family, even?), and I don't remember there ever being any proper romance? Like, sometimes they indicated some sort of a romance or how there COULD be one, but I don't remember any of them ending in a romance, or that it would have been the main idea of the whole story. Or even a subplot.

So, Pixar is my answer :D And Toy Story will probably forever be The Pixar film for me. It was also one of my first childhood hyperfixations as I was already old enough to understand and also memorize things. (I was 4 or 5 when I first saw it.)

[spaceskam]

covered in scars i did nothing to earn

Summary: 5 times Forrest finds old scars on Alex’s body + 1 time he sees a new one

warnings: mentions of past self-harm, descriptions of violent/dangerous situations, past child abuse, sexual situations, vague mention of 2x06 but not That Thing from 2x06

.1.

Forrest quite liked the feeling of Alex’s skin.

He was scarred beyond understanding, but his skin was still soft and taken care of with only little bumps. His body hair sometimes camouflaged the little ones and Forrest had created a game with himself to find them like an Easter egg hunt when they were in bed together.

Tonight was no different as he kept his head on Alex’s shoulder and dragged his fingers through his chest hair. It was barely there, but it was enough to play optical illusions.

“Oh,” he breathed, rubbing his index finger gently into a little knot of a scar over his heart, “What’s that from?”

Alex lifted his head to look at it as if he didn’t know before letting his head all back to the pillow. Forrest kissed his arm before snuggling back into his shoulder.

“Got stabbed,” Alex said like it wasn’t a big deal. Forrest lifted his head and stared at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“You got stabbed?” he said, trying to keep the calm demeanor that Alex had, “Over your heart?”

“Yeah,” Alex yawned, his eyes settling closed, “Leather tools or whatever.”

“You got stabbed with a leather slicker?” Forrest said, eyes wide as he looked closer at the scar. It was still sort of red, newer than the rest. “When did that happen?”

Alex was quiet and Forrest wondered if he’d fallen asleep, but when he looked at his eyes, he was looking right back at him. He looked like he didn’t understand why he was asking.

“I don’t really want to talk about this,” Alex said cautiously. Forrest adjusted himself just a little, worry still heavy in his system. 

“Well, are you at least okay?” Forrest asked. Alex nodded, combing his hands through his hair.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m fine.”

Forrest wasn’t quite sure he believed that, but he pressed a kiss over the scar and laid his head down on Alex’s chest again.

.2.

Forrest felt stupid.

He’d stopped kissed Alex the minute he got on his knees, instead finding his eyes locked on the scars lining Alex’s hip. Precise lines, all the same size and all in a row with the occasional vertical line across them. They were old, that much was clear, but they were there. He hadn’t noticed them before.

“You okay?” Alex asked, looking down at him. Forrest quickly made it look like he wasn’t staring, like he wasn’t overthinking everything Alex had told him about his childhood, like he wasn’t terrified for a boy he he’d never met.

But this was a man. He wasn’t going to bring it up and make him feel guilty for what he couldn’t change.

“Yeah,” Forrest nodded, pushing a kiss on Alex’s lower stomach, “I’m okay.”

As he settled himself between Alex’s thighs, he couldn’t help but look for similar scars. He found them, too, a row high on his inner thigh. Forrest’s stomach dropped, but he tried not to think about it as he took Alex into his mouth, doing his damnedest to make him feel good. 

But, because Forrest was notorious at self sabotage, he found himself thinking about the other people Alex had slept with in his life. Had they noticed? Alex had told him that most of them were quick fucks in dark allies, so they probably hadn’t. But Michael Guerin had seen them, surely. Had he made Alex feel okay about them? Had he comforted him? Had he gotten the entire story?

Forrest zoned out for too many seconds in a row and started actually choking to the point he fell back on his ass as he sucked in a deep breath. Alex was staring down at him with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, voice sweet and full of genuine concern, “I’m sorry, did I-”

“No, you didn’t do anything, I’m just stupid,” Forrest laughed, managing a smile as he looked up at him, “I was thinking about dinner and forgot what I was doing.”

“Oh, jeez, I’m that much of a turn off?” Alex laughed, holding his hand out to help him to his feet. Forrest shook his head.

“No, I just didn’t eat much today,” Forrest lied. Alex gave an exaggerated pout.

“You should’ve said something, you wanna order pizza?” Alex suggested, pulling him in closer. Forrest rested his head on Alex’s, giving him a small kiss and loving the way he smiled against his lips. 

"Sounds good,” Forrest said. Alex smiled wider and pulled up his jeans before finding his phone. Forrest laid against his chest, letting Alex wrap his arms around him and order the pizza while he held him close without question.

Someone had to have showed Alex he was loved and needed, right? He wouldn’t be this sweet if they hadn’t.

Besides, they were old. He would be okay as long as he remembered that.

.3.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“Stop asking me or I’ll change my mind,” Alex laughed, quickly followed by a sneeze that rocked through his whole body and a loud groan. Forrest smiled in adoration, huffing a little laugh as he scooted a little closer. 

Forrest moved closer and gently pulled Alex’s stump into his lap, giving him one last look to make sure it was okay before he slowly started massaging the scar like Alex had showed him. It was something he’d seem Alex to before, but he never stared and had never offered to help. Help, this was the first time Alex even let him touch this specific scar. It was a lot for him and it was a massive privilege. 

“So, what does this do exactly?” Forrest asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“Well, it’s a desensitization technique that they made me start doing before I got my prosthetic. I think I could technically stop doing it, but it helps a lot with phantom pain and on days where I don’t use my prosthetic, it keeps the scar tissue used to movement and friction, stuff like that,” Alex explained, voice nasal from his stuffy nose. Forrest smiled a little helplessly at the sound.

“Do you want me to wash it too?” Forrest offered. Alex made a face.

“I can do that when I go to brush my teeth.”

“Okay,” Forrest said, not wanting to push. Alex hummed and settled into his pillow more. He was cute when he let his guard down. Well, he was always cute, but it was infinitely more obvious on days like this when he was all soft and cuddly. He leaned down and pressed a kiss on his other leg.

“Don’t kiss me, you’re gonna get sick,” Alex scolded. Forrest laughed.

“It’s your leg, no sickness germs are going to seep out and get me sick anymore than just being around you will,” Forrest said. Alex groaned.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” Alex whined before repeating the same phrase he’d been saying since he got sick the day before, “You should go home.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Forrest insisted. Alex sighed semi-dramatically and looked up at him with the world’s sweetest eyes. 

Not for the first time, Forrest wondered just how much Alex felt his own feelings. He always seemed hardened, but his eyes betrayed him and showed just how big his heart was. Forrest kissed his leg again.

“Thank you,” Alex sighed softly, “For taking care of me.”

“Always.”

.4.

“Stupid fucking hair regulations.”

“You could always say fuck the man and grow it out all long and nice,” Forrest suggested, honestly kind of sad as Alex plugged in the clippers. He hadn’t seen Alex with regulation hair, but he knew he liked having something to put his hands through.

“Not an option, unfortunately,” Alex huffed, turning on the clippers and just taking it to his head without hesitation. Forrest visibly grimaced as the side just fell off. “Stop it, you’re making this harder.”

“I’m sorry,” Forrest sighed, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. 

“It’s okay,” Alex said, buzzing off more. He left the top a little bit longer than the sides, but it wasn’t long enough. It really felt like the end of an era. Forrest watched closely, still, and he felt his eyebrows slowly come together as he saw a visible white line on the side of his head.

“Do you have a scar on your head?” he asked bluntly. Alex looked at him through the mirror.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

Alex didn’t answer right away, touching up his hair with unmatched precision. It made Forrest wonder how young he was when he started doing that by himself. Whenever he was in the military, he always had to get someone to help. Alex didn’t.

Eventually, Alex was done and he looked like a new person. Like a soldier. Forrest had mixed feelings.

“My dad made us keep regulation cuts when we were kids,” Alex explained, “My brother didn’t use a guard. Pretty sure he didn’t do it on purpose.”

Forrest’s whole body tensed and his eyes widened, involuntarily feeling the pain of it secondhand. Alex just stared at him, unflinching and unbothered. Maybe that was why he liked his hair long. There was a doubt in him on whether his brother had deliberately cut his head open.

“You okay?” Forrest asked cautiously. Alex nodded, shrugging it off.

“Yeah, my dad gave me stitches, I’m fine.”

The worst part was he said it like it was normal.

.5.

Forrest had his arms wrapped around Alex as tight as he could with the center console between them, shushing him as he sobbed into his chest.

He wasn’t sure what set him off. They’d been fine enough, just walking around the park and holding hands and talking about getting ice cream. Something had switched in him though as they passed the playground and Alex suggested they go right then, so they went back to the car. And then on the drive to the ice cream shop, Alex broke into tears. Forrest pulled over immediately to soothe him.

He knew Alex was a bit off when he woke up that morning, so he suggested the park to give him something chill to think about it. He didn’t expect anything there would set him off. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Forrest promised, trying to breathe in sync with Alex to ground him. It took awhile, but he eventually calmed down. He didn’t let go of Forrest’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered, “I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, it’s okay. Don’t feel bad,” Forrest promised, pressing a soft kiss into the side of his head. Alex took another shaky breath, not moving from his place pressed into Forrest's chest.

Forrest thought back through all of the things Alex had subtly revealed about his childhood, trying to find a moment that could've hinted about a playground or a park being a trigger. He couldn't think of one, the closest one being his mom bringing all four of her sons to a park the day she ran off without a goodbye. But Alex never got like this when he talked about his mom.

"I'm sorry I brought you here," Forrest said, "I didn't know."

"No, it's just..." Alex said, sniffling as he sat up a little, "It's just a bad day. Could've been anything."

"But I knew that, so I'm still sorry," Forrest insisted. Alex huffed a small laugh, wiping his face dry as he sniffled again.

"You're too good to me," Alex said. Forrest shrugged and didn't say anything. He didn't feel like he was too good for Alex. In fact, he was still quite sure he wasn't good enough for him at all. "Guess I kind of owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything," Forrest promised. Alex sniffled, shaking his head.

"No, I never give you an explanation, but this time I have one," Alex said, taking a deep, steadying breath. Forrest listened intently. "This, um, this was the park my dad took me when I was little when I got into trouble at school. I was, uh, super antagonistic in those years right after my mom left, I was so mad at everyone all the time. But, uh, he would take me here and every single time I could trick myself into thinking it was going to be okay. We'd walk around for an hour and we'd talk about what happened. He'd ask me why I did it, talk through it. It always seemed like it was going to end well. Then, um, then..."

"Alex," Forrest said softly, shaking his head, "You don't have to–"

"Then he told me to pick my own switch," Alex finished, breathing heavily. Forrest felt sick. "'Cause having a reason didn't excuse my actions, he said. I don't know, I just saw that tree and I just..."

"Jesus, Alex, I'm so sorry," Forrest breathed, leading him back to lay against his chest. He went willingly. He thought about Alex's body and tried to remember where scars from that might be. But Alex was six when his mom left, the chances of those having faded by now were high. And then Forrest was faced with the image of six year old Alex walking through the park, holding his dad's hand, and picking out the stick he'd get beaten with later that evening. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Alex said, "I-It's not even that big of a deal, tons of people had to do that, I'm just having a bad day."

"It doesn't matter how many people had to do that, it's still fucked. You're allowed to be upset with that no matter what kind of day it is," Forrest insisted, "I'll pick a different park next time."

Alex gave a soft laugh, "Okay."

"You still want ice cream?" he wondered. Alex sniffled and shrugged. "How about we stop by the store and I'll run in and get some and then we can eat it in bed with Buffy?"

Alex took another breath, steadier than any of the ones before.

"I'd like that."

.+1.

Forrest woke up to frantic knocking on his front door and Buffy barking.

"Who the fuck–"

He stopped speaking when he opened the door to see Michael and Kyle carrying a limp Alex between them. He didn't even ask questions as he got out of the way, letting them pull Alex inside and lay him on the coffee table. Kyle ripped open his shirt to reveal a bullet wound in his stomach. Buffy barked in concern beside them, trying to peer onto the table.

"Oh my God," he breathed, panic rocking through him as he saw his boyfriend who said he was just going a recruitment trip. That wasn't supposed to lead to this.

"Sorry, you were just the closest and we can't bring him to the hospital without Isobel because they'll ask questions," Kyle explained.

"I-I don't understand," Forrest breathed, "How did he..."

"Get shot? Because your boyfriend is determined to die a martyr," Michael said, not taking his eyes off of the wound. Forrest could barely think straight. Actually, he couldn't at all. "Can you put the dog away?"

"He'll be okay," Kyle promised, looking up at Michael as Forrest dazedly led Buffy to the bathroom, "Do your thing."

And then Forrest really was hallucinating his entire night because Michael's hand started glowing.

It was alight for a few seconds before Alex's eyes opened. Michael lunged to the side, grabbing the bag Kyle thrusted at him and vomiting in it in the same moment Alex groaned in pain.

"Forrest, come distract him, I don't have any anesthetics," Kyle instructed, gloves somehow already on his hands. Forrest was shaking and his mind was scrambled, but he obeyed and knelt by Alex's head. He held his head in his hands.

"Hey, babe, definitely would've liked a heads up," Forrest said. Alex gave a dopey smile, still sweating and clearly in pain. Forrest gave him a kiss on the forehead and stole another look at his abdomen. The wound looked fifty times better than it had before Michael did the glowy thing. He filed that away for questions to ask later.

It was when Kyle neared it with a suture needle that Forrest looked back to Alex. He tensed whenever the needle pierced him, but he just took a shallow breath to keep still. He didn't scream, didn't flinch, just breathed. Forrest found his hand and let him squeeze even if it hurt.

"You're doing great," Forrest insisted. Alex just breathed in slowly. Michael appeared beside him then, breath smelling of vomit and nail polish remover. It was the worst smell he'd ever been forced to smell.

"You really gotta stop playing hero," Michael told him.

"Says you," Alex shot back. Forrest didn't comment, just pushed his hair back and pressed another kiss to his head. "Sorry if I get blood on your new rug."

"Hush, I don't care as long as you're okay," Forrest told him. Alex nodded, taking another deep breath.

They sat there while Kyle stitched him up, Forrest kissing his head and Michael squeezing Alex's other hand. Eventually, Kyle was done.

"Can we stay here? I don't want to move him more and I need to look over him," Kyle said. Forrest nodded.

"Yeah, whatever you need, just keep him safe," Forrest said. He sat there with Alex for a few more minutes before he managed to get himself to his feet. "Gonna go get you some water, okay?"

A few shaky steps later, Forrest was grabbing three ups and filling them with water. A hand reached around him to grab his cup and Forrest followed it to Michael. He had a billion questions, but the guy was clearly having his own rough day and the questions could be saved for the morning.

"Thank you," Forrest said, "Not sure exactly what you did, but... you helped him, I think, so... Thanks."

Michael paused in the middle of downing his water, slowly pulling it away from him mouth as he looked at Forrest. He waited for whatever kind of reaction someone has when they just saved their ex-boyfriend's life and then had that person's new boyfriend kiss them.

"You're treating him right, aren't you?" Michael asked. Forrest nodded.

"I'm doing my best," Forrest said. Michael nodded curtly.

"Good. He deserves it. Keep it up, bro," he said, voice a little awkward and disjointed. He reached out a little, hesitated, and then went through with patting Forrest on the shoulder before grabbing another cup and bringing it into the kitchen. Forrest was too overwhelmed to even process that that was weird and grabbed the final cup and following him.

Forrest knelt beside Alex and helped prop his head up to help him drink. He sighed thankfully as the water got into his system.

"You know, I usually let you slide on the explanation thing, but I think I need one this time," Forrest said to him. Alex looked at him with his warm eyes and nodded, his head resting comfortably in Forrest's palm. So he didn't move it when he let Alex's head back down.

"I will," Alex said.

"At least you got another scar for the collection, much cooler story," Michael said, a lighter tone in his voice. Alex snorted a laugh but groaned at the pain it brought him. "Sorry."

"No, you're good," Alex said, "You're right."

"There is absolutely nothing cool about being shot," Kyle scoffed.

"Shut up, Dr. McDreamy, you vote doesn't count," Michael said before looking at Forrest, "You think his scars are cool, don't you, Forrest?"

Forrest blinked at him and then looked down at Alex who was looking at him expectantly. He didn't know how to say that cool wasn't the word he'd use. Tragic, maybe, a sign of his strength. Not cool. But they made him Alex, so that was something cool.

"Yeah," Forrest agreed, "Very cool."

Alex smiled and closed his eyes and Forrest officially accepted that this was his life now.

He was absolutely okay with that.

[misssarahlouise]

Home Sweet Home! (We moved!)

We moved in on January 16. We are slowing unpacking , making this place our own. I love it oh so much! We Finally found a house that made our hearts sing and we fell in love. Yes I know it is May and we moved in January but we have been oh so busy life has passed me by. I got my covid vaccine shots (check)! Me and Chris are fully vaccinated. We are slowing getting furniture and making it our own. Adding decor. We finally picked a swatch for our couch. Me and Chris can be quite picky. Cannot wait arrives! Thank you Sissy, Peter, William, Izzy, Emmy, and JM!

Since I had my my Neuropace implant almost 2 years ago, It will be 2 years in July. In total I have only had about 6 seizures. Damn. If any of you recall I use to have 25 + seizures a month. I’d say the surgery was a huge success! I could not thank the doctors at Yale for changing my life yet again. (Thank you!!!).

My partial aphasia is still very annoying. I have been asked by many doctors if I would have done the surgery if I knew I would end of would the aphasia then partial aphasia and I say, “I would do it again in a heart beat.” I just have the most challenging brain. Thats just a fact. Nothing I can do apart it. It is worth it, living with epilepsy was/is draining my brain…I could not finish sentencing before I had my surgeries. I was deeply depressed. Epilepsy is depressing. So yes, so what when I get tired I have trouble with my sentences but 6 seizures is almost 2 years…hell yeah I can deal.

I also started my garden! (yay!) So many veggies! I believe I have grown a green thumb. I am starting everything from seed. Pretty proud of my self. So far I have two raised beds and a high trellis connecting the two. (vertical gardening baby!) Some I am starting inside and plant in the ground when the weather stays contestants warmer.

Since I am starting it from seed no chance of pesticides, some I am doing organic and some I am not. I suffer from chronic migraines. I have discovered my migraines can be set of my what I eat, the weather, and lack of sleep. but mostly what I eat. If there is certain attitudes on the food. Like diet coke, they switch the sugar to something I cannot pronouns that can set off a migraine. Or dairy, or nitrates, sometimes things sprayed with pesticides. I do not know why. So I was so happy when we moved because i could grow my own food, also that met less money at the grocery store, healthy options.

I will be growing:

Herbs:

Organic (F1) Prospera, Italian Large Basil

Ellegance Purple, Lavender

Staro, Chives

Common Chamomile

Mint

Rosemary

Thalia, Organic Dill Seed

Root Vegetables:

Boro (F1) Beets

Bolero (F1), Pelleted, Carrots

Romance (F1) Carrots

Rover (F1) Radish

Red King 2 (F1), Radish

Guardsmen Onion 

Deep Purple Onion

Greens:

Salanova, Green Butter, Pelleted,  Lettuce

Bok Choy, Toy

Auroch (F1) Spinach

Gladius (F1) Brussel Sprouts

Organic - H-19 Little Leaf, Cucumber

Winterbor (F1) Kale

Black Magic (F1) Kale

Hard Red Winter Wheat, Organic Shoot

Squash: 

Caspirita, Mini-White Pumpkins

Butterbaby Organic (F1) Butternut Squash

Raven (F1) Zucchini

Nightshade Family:

Toma Verde, Tomatillos

Paisano(F1)Tomatoes

Sakura (F1) Organic Tomatoes

Potatoes, small

Hot Paper Lantern, Organic Habanero Pepper

Hot Rod(F1), Serrano Pepper

Ace(F1), Bell Pepper 

Peas + Beans:

Tohya, Soybean(Edamame)

Sugar Ann, Snap Pea

Fruit:

Strawberries

Flowers:

Costa Mix (Snapdragons)

Madame Butterfly, Ivory (Snapdragons)

Champagne Bubbles Mix (Icelandic Poppy)

California Poppy (Poppy)

Empress of India (Organic Nasturtium)

Lemon Gen (Marigold)

See you soon!

[fuse2dx]

November ‘20

Cross Code

Cross Code is a game that is trying so very, very hard. The story is based around your character being an avatar within an MMORPG, and its this kind of game-within-a-game setup that is used as a cheeky way to skirt the fourth wall and have its characters make snide remarks at certain design decisions, while also going full steam ahead with them regardless of the fact. Don’t think we didn’t notice, dev team! It plays out as a 2D top-down action RPG, but clearly has aspirations that extend far beyond this framework. Each of its environments is thoroughly layered with subtle verticality, with parkour-esque platforming having you constantly working backwards from your intended destination, and requiring meticulous attention to detail in order to find where it is you’re able to begin your elaborate series of jumps from. There’s a huge array of materials to gather and channel through traders and to craft into gear, and the combat they benefit is both precise and complex, requiring plenty of on-the-fly thinking as well as tight execution. As well as these set-piece battles, the game’s dungeons are full of puzzles that though smart in construction, are tough enough in isolation, and frankly brutal in their relentless frequency. One particularly ill-advised chapter has a series of three such dungeons in quick succession, and perfectly illustrates that just because you can, does not mean that you should. 

On a more positive note, one thing the game does have in spades is charm. The sprite work is admirable; even though characters are a touch on the tiny side to be too effective on their own, their portraits and dialogue provide a solid emotive connection to them and the story that builds up around them. In all, it is a game that can be a lot of fun, and plenty rewarding - but the entire thing is overly long and far too regularly punishing. It’s tapped into a number of 16-bit action-RPG ideas well, but has perhaps unintentionally also managed to become the most masochistic presentation of these ideas to date.

Crimzon Clover: World Explosion

A game I’ve technically owned for years now, however the lack of a Windows PC has held me back from playing it - with this debut on the Switch finally granting me the opportunity though to get hands on. Although I’d gleaned plenty from watching super players decimate it before now, even my feeble credit feeding through the game’s five stages has given me plenty of additional appreciation for just how good it is. 

It looks brilliant, with chunky, detailed enemies animated beautifully as they move about the screen. The music pounds along to an energetic beat, and the game keeps a solid pace all while plenty of bullets swarm around you in creative and considered patterns. Turning the tides with Break Mode is an incredibly satisfying way to take control of hairier moments, and while I can’t speak for every intricacy of its scoring system, I know that it’s developed by a team that demonstrably understands the value of these. What I can more reliably add to that discussion is that you’re unlikely to find yourself reliant on any one hook to find your fun though; even the most pedestrian appreciator of the genre should find plenty to enjoy. Thoroughly deserving of its regular appearance alongside the biggest names in the genre.

Holovista

There’s often a reasonable amount of scepticism that comes from some folks when you talk of gaming on a mobile phone. Flipping the conversation though, and instead to talk of one of my favourite advantages of the format, it’s great that a developer can lean on the familiarity and the personal connection that you have to the device you’re playing on. As a device that lives by your side 24/7 and increasingly encroaches further into every aspect of your being, Holovista leverages this connection amazingly, spinning its story in a series of interfaces that mimic how your phone acts when you use it yourself. Taking pictures and interacting with people in particular are key interfaces, and that are done in a way that neatly puts you right into the shoes of their character. 

It begins with said character taking an interview for a new job that is hoped to herald a new tide of good fortune, and promptly introduces the circle of friends that are there to help with this and that celebrate alongside. As you learn more about the job, things slowly begin to get a bit weird, and then take a turn that is something akin to Black Mirror meets nightmarish introspection. Though not overtly unpleasant, there are some memorably unsettling moments along the way. Sensibly, it does have content warnings that offer some sound advice for those it might not sit so well with, but self-care does end up being a central takeaway from the game as a whole as well as for its cast. On the back of circumstances we’ll generically chalk up to this year’s being what it is, this ended up feeling like a lovely little palate cleanser -  a considered refresh, thoroughly original, and a very worthy afternoon’s entertainment. 

The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening

One thing that’s always been great about Link’s Awakening came as a result of the technical limitations imposed by the Gameboy - that the Zelda format needed all the fat trimmed, while the mixture of puzzles and action were to be distilled down into their most potent and compact form. Even with the (entirely optional) extras they’ve slipped in with this remake, this still shines through in its design now, where it couldn’t be any further removed from the risks of overly long, dragged out pacing. A small overworld it may be, but it’s full of variety, secrets, and memorable moments. Dungeons are similarly economical with its good ideas - giving you new tools, laying out smart ways to break you into their use, and then letting you get on with things. 

While the remastered music is also utterly charming, the real upsell here is the total visual do-over; its tilt-shifted cartoon aesthetic pushing each and every scene to look like a shiny, hyper-cute diorama. For all of the different visual styles that the series has dabbled with in the past, this one definitely feels like the right match for the light-hearted whimsy that comes through from the story and the characters. That’s not to say that it’s flawless either - the blurring at the screen’s edges can be overly intense at times, and the overall presentation does cause the performance to stutter and feel a little sluggish at times. I point at these things only given the bar is raised so - something unavoidable when you already know a game is a stone-cold classic from the off. 

Astro’s Playroom

Coming pre-installed on your shiny new (and hopefully not scalped) Playstation 5 console, Playroom begins as a humble introduction to the capabilities of the Dual Sense controller. Touch control, haptic feedback, adaptive triggers and the like are introduced and may well generate some cooing and low-key positivity, however this enthusiasm is elevated by a mighty factor when the game truly begins and everything is put so deftly into practice.

It’s not a complex or particularly challenging title as far as 3D platformers go, with frequent checkpoints and no life counter in sight. Any mould-breaking to be done comes instead from the diversity in how you control various sideshows, with the entire kitchen sink’s worth of interface options being showcased as you climb into a monkey suit, blast off a rocket ship, bounce around as a pinball, and so on. All of these demonstrate ingenuity that could’ve easily gone awry, yet are quickly understood, and grounded in a level of both tactile and in-game feedback that maintains a natural feeling. The game’s worlds serve as virtual tours through colourful, fantasy depictions of hardware components that demonstrates an excellent level of both pride and playfulness, with fellow bots littering both the through-fare and the unbeaten paths, dressed up and enacting smart homage to generations of games and their characters, all while Playstation-themed collectables are doled out in tandem alongside smart, well-natured puns. It arguably borders on propaganda at times, such is the intense positivity. That said, the more extensive your tenure is with Sony’s platforms, the more likely it’ll dull your better judgement to this, instead letting slip a grin at what is essentially the grandest love letter to all things Playstation, and the warmest, most celebratory pack-in for a new console Sony could have ever hoped for. 

The showcasing of new features and hardware aside, it’s also a subtle and unofficial coronation of Astrobot as Sony’s newest (and best) mascot. There’s been plenty of candidates in the past who’ve half-heartedly assumed to own the position, but it’s the silent, cheerful charm which makes Astro that much more of an endearing figurehead. G'wan the little guy.

No More Heroes 2: Desperate Struggle

For someone that loves Suda51 and adored No More Heroes, my reaction to No More Heroes 2 on its original release was comparatively tepid. With a third game due next year, this re-release felt like the right time to revisit it and see it through, and although I found some things to enjoy, I certainly found plenty to remind me why I had bounced off it previously.

Roaming about in Santa Destroy between missions is gone, instead replaced with a short check list of destinations. While not a fan of the change myself, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing - though it does give a misleading impression of tightened focus that is very quickly lost as it lays out a spread of half-baked, and frankly clumsy mini-games. As well as being your prime source for money and upgrades, these do a lot to artificially increase the length of the game, and put simply, they’re just not fun enough to warrant this level of prominence. Even the main story has frequent moments where it veers away from the core 3D hack and slash gameplay, and again, these do more harm than good to the game’s flow.

The fighting underpinning it all has undoubtably been done better since by any number of titles, and though imperfect, it is still serviceable and enjoyable for the most part. Boss battles definitely hold the lion’s share of the game’s highlights, but there’s a few that also stick out with some poorly executed designs that tars its lasting impression. Shades do remain of the ridiculous, irreverent charm of the first game, although they are certainly more infrequent, and a more modern lens also brings into question just how sincerely we should take the sending up of Travis, when cast upon a backdrop of frequent fanservice. Not the best sequel then, but let’s hope 3 gets things back on track.  

[harianadimples]

Have You Heard of That New Mario Kart Game?

Warning: none 1.8k+: fluff, famous!harry, university student!y/n, domestic life of two odd balls

+ Mario Kart Tour has become the bane of my existence

| – | – | – |

It’s now an hour until midnight and her paper looks somewhat decent. She thinks. She’s made it through 1,397 words of her 2,000 word essay, so she figures she can grant herself a short break to see what’s making Harry shout like a mad man while she gets another snack.

She travels down the hall, carrying an empty white bowl now stained by the blueberries that were in it earlier, and into the living room where she finds Harry sitting hunched over his phone. His hair is sticking up in different directions.

“Fucking finally!” He suddenly yells, rolling backwards while pumping his fist and phone in the air before sitting forward again. He returns to being stiff as a nail, concentrating heavily on his phone.

“Your back will hurt later if you stay hunched over like that,” Y/N says as she enters their kitchen.

“S’already hurting but don’t care. I finally got the hang of this,” he mutters from the other room before yelling in celebratory fashion.

“Of what?” Y/N asks.

“Have you heard of that new Mario Kart game?”

or

The one where Harry plays Mario Kart Tour and slowly loses his mind while Y/N watches and it’s pure domestic!fluff involving Mario Kart, adulting, a tower fan: the obvious necessities of a loving, healthy, relationship

-:-:-:-

“God fucking damn it!”

Y/N looks up from her laptop towards the door. “Bubba? You alright?” She asks and waits for a response. When she doesn’t hear one she shrugs it off, thinking Harry probably sorted it out. 

Several minutes later she hears him yell again. “No! Drift! Drift- Not that way- fuck-.” His voice carries into the room, muffled by the door and the distance, but she can make out the genuine distress he’s in.

Y/N checks the time. She’d been working on her paper for her gothic literature class since she arrived that afternoon (give or take the few hours she spent procrastinating) and had fallen into a steady zone of writing when Harry arrived just before seven. He’d spent his off day with Alexander, part of his London group of friends, to see some exhibit being showcased downtown. Y/N would have gone had she not had a paper due online at midnight, and knowing her habits and writing process she’d need the rest of the night to get it done. 

However, she didn’t chalk up Harry to be a distraction. She had marooned Harry to the rest of the house while she hid away in their bedroom, yet that didn’t seem to matter at the moment. Last she saw of him was during one of her breaks to get herself a snack and a drink. He was lounging in their living room with his phone and laptop out, probably on a meeting call and answering e-mails. That was two hours ago. 

It’s now an hour until midnight and her paper looks somewhat decent. She thinks. She’s made it through 1,397 words of her 2,000 word essay, so she figures she can grant herself a short break to see what’s making Harry shout like a mad man while she gets another snack. 

She travels down the hall, carrying an empty white bowl now stained by the blueberries that were in it earlier, and into the living room where she finds Harry sitting hunched over his phone. His hair is sticking up in different directions.

“Fucking finally!” He suddenly yells, rolling backwards while pumping his fist and phone in the air before sitting forward again. He returns to being stiff as a nail, concentrating heavily on his phone. 

“Your back will hurt later if you stay hunched over like that,” Y/N says as she enters their kitchen. 

“S’already hurting but don’t care. I finally got the hang of this,” he mutters from the other room before yelling in celebratory fashion. 

“Of what?” Y/N asks. 

“Have you heard of that new Mario Kart game?”

“I saw it trending on Twitter. I haven’t gotten the chance to play yet. It looks interesting,” she shrugs, popping a blueberry in her mouth.

“Don’t bother, it sucks,” Harry huffs. “The controls are stupid on this mobile version. It’s hard to steer and drift. I prefer playing on the perfectly good Switch we own. I also think it’s kind of stupid that you have to play vertically. Makes no sense to me.”

Y/N hums thoughtfully as she carries her blueberries over to Harry. She wants to see what he’s fussing over, so she motions for him to start the next map so she can watch. While he’s making his character and car selections his lips part. As a reflex she pushes a blueberry into his open mouth. “Thanks bubba,” he says as he chews on the fruit. “Do you see this garbage?” He asks with a tone that questions the sanctity of the game with so much intent that she has to laugh. 

“Wow, you really hate this game, huh,” she says, amused by how affected he seemed. 

“It’s really no offence to the developers, but this game is already great played on a console. Why ruin it by turning it into a cash-grabbing mobile game?” Harry sighs. 

“That’s just the gaming business nowadays, I guess,” Y/N shrugs. “Is there even a multiplayer option? I might download it so I can kick your ass on a different version as well.”

“It’s implied that it’s still in development. Probably won’t be playing it again any time soon, so it doesn’t matter,” he replies, “also, you only win because you wanna talk about the future of humanity and shit whenever we play, distracting me.”

“I’ll play you again when I finish my paper, and when I kick your ass again in total silence you can whine about it while you wash the dishes.”

“Unless I kick your ass. Then I expect a night’s sleep with the fan off.”

“You know I need the fan on or else I can’t sleep,” Y/N pouts as Harry grins stupidly. “Then you should hope you kick my ass then,” he says. 

“Oh I will. I’m gonna go finish up my paper,” Y/N sighs, giving Harry a quick kiss before retreating back to their room. 

-:-

Y/N joined Harry in the living room at around 11:45 p.m. She submitted her paper online and printed out a hard copy to bring to class the next day which she stapled and placed with her laptop so she didn’t forget.

Her and Harry played ten rounds of Mario Kart on their switch (should have been five but Harry threw a tantrum when he lost three games in a row). Still, Y/N came out as the definitive winner having won six rounds against Harry. 

While Harry washed the dishes she went ahead and got ready for bed. She downloaded the Mario Kart game on her phone while doing her skin care and got herself started in between steps. The game didn’t seem so bad so far but she could see where Harry’s complaints were coming from. She wondered if there was any way to fix the steering and drifting in the settings to give her more control. Luckily there was and she quickly did that.

“This map is so hard,” Y/N mutters. She’s been lying in bed, sitting upright against the pillows having played a few maps now. Harry eventually enters the room appearing tired but relatively content. She’s stuck on a map and was tilting her phone and trying to drift to pull ahead of her opponents. 

Harry, understandingly, looked confused. 

“That doesn’t actually help, you know,” Harry says pointedly. He begins to get ready for bed while watching Y/N flail around. It amuses him to the point of laughing while planting half of himself on her to see what place she’s in. 

“I changed the settings so you steer by tilting your phone and you tap to drift. It’s loads easier for me now,” she tells him as she tilts her phone on a hard left turn. She accidentally bumps Harry’s cheek with her elbow. “Oh- shit- sorry,” she apologizes over each abrupt motion she makes. 

Harry chuckles and pays no more mind to her jerking motions and continues to lay his head in her lap to watch her play. The fan is on pointed directly on Y/N the way she likes it, and truthfully feels quite nice on his face. He never liked the white noise of the fan running in his sleep and his exposed feet tended to get the butt-end of their deal, but he let her have this one thing figuring it’s gotten her to stay around for this long.

-:-

The following morning Y/N gets ready for class. She makes sure she’s got everything in her bag: pens, her notebook, her laptop and chargers. She puts her essay in with her laptop and zips up her bag. 

Harry is snoring quietly behind her, wrapped up in a white faux fur throw blanket with his face buried between two pillows. The fan blows in his direction, causing his hair to raise with the gusts of wind. He looks peaceful and soft; morning-Harry is her favourite Harry for these reasons. She loves him at his loudest, and at his most charming and talented when he’s being ‘Harry Styles,’ and when he’s at his most neediest, when like a pup he wants nothing more but her love and affection. But morning-Harry meant sleepy-Harry, who’s every bit of the above when he’s groggy with sleep. Only, he’s softer and so precious; Anne says it bests when she talks to Y/N when Harry visits. It’s like he never left home at 16.

They fought hard to make their home what it was. Two years ago when they started dating it was just Harry, and his place felt very much like his place. Then she came into his life and brought a Seville classics tower fan with her. Literally, she got it one summer during a heat wave. Her parent’s home didn’t have working air condition after a faulty maintenance job, so they bought two new fans from Costco. Since then she found it hard to sleep without the fan on her; the gentle breeze was nice and the sound oddly helped her sleep. Harry had his qualms about having the fan on while they slept, but she knew deep down he liked the fan idea too.

Y/N leaves her bag next to the bottom of the stairs while she makes herself a quick breakfast. She eats fast and goes back upstairs to brush her teeth and say good bye to Harry. She enters their room and finds him sitting upright in bed, holding her phone. 

“Morning pretty,” she laughs softly, smiling as she presses his hair down and kisses the creases in his forehead. 

“Bubba you’re in the way,” he huffs, moving his face out of her hands.

“I’m leaving for class, just gonna brush my teeth then get my phone,” she tells him with an amused grin as she peers down at her phone. “Though you weren’t going to be playing it again any time soon?”

“Yeah,” Harry says as if merely saying so would make the both forget his rage towards the mobile game less than 24 hours ago. “I won first place on a couple maps. You’re welcome,” Harry says pointedly, glancing at her as she enters their bathroom. He hears her laugh while the water runs.

She comes out a few minutes later as Harry completes another map. He hands her phone back. “You can add me as a friend now apparently,” Harry says. “I accepted on your behalf.”

Y/N nods slowly as she looks at her phone. His screen name she assumes (babyhunny) appears under her friends list.

“‘Kay, I gotta go. See you later,” she says, tucking her phone in her back pocket, holding her earphones ready as she leans down to kiss Harry. 

“Mhmm, love yeh,” he murmurs into the kiss. “Love you too,” she replies, pecking his lips once more before she heads out the door. 

She glances back at Harry and sees that he’s on his phone now, probably playing Mario Kart on it, evidenced by the deep crease in his forehead that reappears and his tongue which pokes out as his gaze focuses on his screen. Y/N shakes her head, grinning as she turns the corner.

| – | – | – |

Hello, it’s been a while. I wrote this completely sleep-deprived at 6am after losing miserably on this one difficult map in Mario Kart Tour. One could say I was projecting..... but, the way this game was brought up to me made me wonder how it’d be talking to Harry about it and I imagined he’d be pretty peeved by the game too but keep playing nonetheless. idk. but i know i wanna (gonna) kick harry’s ass in mario kart someday. when we meet again and become bffs.

Add me if u want [my id: 041377293682]

+ masterlist

[recentanimenews]

Bookshelf Briefs 9/30/20

Accomplishments of the Duke’s Daughter, Vol. 6 | By Reai and Suki Umemiya | Seven Seas – Another series down to “once a year” release—I had to jog my memory at the start to recall what had been happening. Many things are going wrong for our heroine, who is trying to be strong and tough but is also starting to break down, and I felt that the scenes with her and Dean struck just the right balance of comforting and letting the heroine cry without making her seem weaker. This sets the stage for her comeback, which is extraordinary. (And also has a corrupt Church, a constant in Japanese light novels, though at least here there are also honest and good religious people in it.) That said, eventually Dean’s identity will come out, and I do wonder how this very good “villainess” isekai will handle it. – Sean Gaffney

The Ancient Magus’ Bride: Jack Flash and the Faerie Case Files, Vol. 1 | By Yu Godai, Mako Oikawa, and Kore Yamazaki | Seven Seas – A faerie switched at birth for a human child, Jack never fit in in either world. Only in the mortal realm could she earn money for anime collectibles, however, so she decided to make herself into a tough, capable woman like her literary heroes and set up shop as a detective. Together with her fellow changeling, Larry the werewolf, Jack takes on supernatural cases in New York City. In this volume, Lindel tasks them with tracking down a missing dragon egg. I liked the resources Jack uses to obtain information, which include a dapper theatre ghost and a spell with components of rat whiskers and taxi tires because “Nobody out there knows this city better than them.” I still found this a bit hard to get into, though, especially the parts involving a perpetually tearful off-off-off-off-Broadway actress and her pickpocket boyfriend. Still, I will check out volume two! – Michelle Smith

Black Clover, Vol. 22 | By Yuki Tabata | Viz Media – At long last, this interminable arc comes to an end. I enjoyed a lot of it, but I cannot deny it should have been about two volumes shorter. Most of the book is taken up by shonen battles, with the villain being nigh unkillable, the heroes almost breaking themselves to stop him, etc. Fortunately, the day is saved, and even the Wizard King turns out to be… sort of alive again? Shota fans should be happy. Asta fans perhaps less so—the sheer amount of damage done to the kingdom in this arc means someone has to be blamed, and give Asta has the “dark evil magic” it’s gonna be him, especially when he takes the incredibly obvious bait they use to get him to fight. Oh well, if Asta were smart, this wouldn’t be Black Clover. – Sean Gaffney

Don’t Toy with Me, Miss Nagatoro, Vol. 3 | By Nanashi | Vertical Comics – Part of the problem with titles like this and the other teasing works (Takagi-san less so as Nishikata doesn’t fall into the category) is that they are, at heart, the classic “extroverted girl acts overtly extroverted to bring introverted guy out of their shell,” and that’s not really a plot that feels comfortable in the Gen Z days, where you’re more likely to say “why doesn’t she just let him be in his quiet, safe space?” And by she I mean they, as Nagatoro’s two friends appear far more often here, which offers some good two-way teasing action, as they clearly see her crush on him, if not why. It’s still sort of hard to read, but if you pretend he’s more OK with it than he actually is, this is cute. – Sean Gaffney

Failed Princesses, Vol. 1 | By Ajiichi | Seven Seas – The concept of “popular girl meets unpopular girl” is a common one in yuri manga, and we do indeed hit several of its tropes in this first volume. The amusing thing is that Kanade, the shy outcast girl, is perfectly aware of how things are supposed to go, and keeps pulling back a bit to try to save Nanaki from, well, making herself an outcast by associating with the wrong people. The best part of the volume is that Nanaki really doesn’t give two shits about any of that, and seems set on making Kanade her best friend… and also making her over, which backfires a bit as Kanade cleans up nicely. I hear this gets a bit dramatic later, but for the moment it’s a cute and fluffy proto-yuri story. – Sean Gaffney

In/Spectre, Vol. 12 | By Kyo Shirodaira and Chashiba Katase | Kodansha Comics – The first story in this volume is another “Rikka tries to make people understand Kotoko is an evil Machiavellian schemer,” this time with one of her ex-classmates, but again the response seems to be “we know she’s a manipulative bitch, but she’s a good person anyway.” The larger story, which will continue into the next book, seems to be a chance to write Kuro and Kotoko as an actual romance, as the man we meet here and his relationship with a yuki-onna… as well as his penchant for attracting misfortune… very much parallel them. That said, they’re very cute together, which is why I hope he avoids the murder charge he’s now being investigated for. Still a favorite. – Sean Gaffney

Interviews with Monster Girls, Vol. 8 | By Petos | Kodansha Comics – The author knows what people want to see, but also knows that the best way to get readers is to drive them crazy by not showing it. We finally get what we’ve been begging for here, as Tetsuo asks Sakie out on a date. (This is after rejecting Kyouko’s love confession, both because she’s his student and also, as he is forced to admit, as he likes Sakie.) The stage is set for the date… and the rest of the book is thus spent with the three main student girls going to Kyouko’s for a fireworks viewing and meeting her family. They’re good chapters, and I really liked showing how difficult Kyouko has it as a dullahan in terms of everyday life, but GOD, please get back to the teachers, I beg you! – Sean Gaffney

Kaguya-sama: Love Is War, Vol. 16 | By Aka Akasaka | Viz Media – The series has gotten to the point where the more rewarding chapters are the ones as part of a larger arc. Not that the one-shot chapters are bad—though Maki’s journey to India may be the most pointless thing in this entire series to date, we do get Chika’s iconic “shut up or I’ll kill you” here. But the larger arcs, featuring Miyuki and Kaguya attempting to date without interruptions, and setting up Ishigami and Iino for a romance—though given the number of limbs broken in this book, and Iino’s own horrible lack of self-awareness, it may be a ways out—are better. This series is still hilarious, but we’ve come to read it more for the heartwarming moments. Heck, there’s even some serious drama here. Very good. – Sean Gaffney

Nineteen | By Ancco | Drawn & Quarterly – Although it was translated and released second in English, Nineteen is a precursor to Ancco’s internationally award-winning manhwa Bad Friends. The volume collects thirteen short comics originally published in Korea over a decade ago which absolutely remain relevant to today’s world. While understandably not as polished as some of Ancco’s later work—one can observe her style evolving and growing over the course of the collection (which is fascinating)—the comics still carry significant emotional weight and impact. Nineteen includes diary comics, which tend to be more lighthearted, as well as harder-hitting fictional stories, many of which also have autobiographical inspiration. As a whole, the collection explores themes of young adulthood, growing up, and complicated family relationships. In particular, there is a compelling focus on the relationships among daughters, mothers, and grandmothers. Some of the narratives can be rather bleak, but a resigned sense of humor threads through Nineteen, too. – Ash Brown

Ran the Peerless Beauty, Vol. 8 | By Ammitsu | Kodansha Comics (digital only) – Shoujo manga that has couples getting together BEFORE the end of the series is inevitably going to have an arc dealing with how far the lead couple should go now that they’re dating, and this is Ran’s turn, as she and Akira and their friends go to a beach house Ran’s family owns and have some beach fun. Unfortunately, the cast gets winnowed down one by one until it’s just the two of them… and her overprotective father, who arrives in time to provide the cliffhanger and no doubt ensure that nookie does not ensue. Not that I think it should—these two kids are even purer than the couple from Kimi ni Todoke, and I think they should mature a bit more before going further. Plus, watching them blush and kiss is wonderful. – Sean Gaffney

Spy x Family, Vol. 2 | By Tatsuya Endo | Viz Media – Having spent our first volume establishing that our found family can really come to love each other deep down, this volume shows off how they are also, at heart, fundamentally awkward and unable to socialize normally. This is unsurprising—hints of Loid’s life we’ve seen show him as a war orphan, Yor is a contract killer, and Anya basically grew up being experimented on by bad guys. As the school soon finds, this leads to issues. The second half of the book introduces Yor’s sister-obsessed little brother Yuri, who turns out to be a torture expert for Loid’s enemies. As always, half the fun is that everyone except Anya has no idea who their real selves are, and the cliffhanger tells us we’re in for some hilarious family fun. I love this. – Sean Gaffney

Spy x Family, Vol. 2 | By Tatsuya Endo | VIZ Media – After a brief spell atop the waiting list, Anya officially makes it into Eden Academy. Loid is anxious to progress to the next stage of his mission and, believing there’s not much chance in turning Anya into an elite scholar like his agency wants, focuses instead on having her befriend the younger son of his target. It does not go to plan, of course. Anya is very cute in this volume, and I also really appreciated how Loid genuinely listens to Yor and values her input. The arrival of Yor’s brother, a member of the secret police, is going to be a fun complication, and another cast member with a secret, but my favorite part of this series is probably always going to be how much love these three are already feeling for each other. So unique and good! – Michelle Smith

Sword Art Online: Hollow Realization, Vol. 6 | By Tomo Hirokawa, based on the story by Reki Kawahara | Yen Press – The weakness of this manga is the same as always—it’s written to tie into the games, and features several characters I just don’t recognize, which can be a problem given this is the big final let’s-save-the-world ending. That said, this is still a decent SAO title. Kirito gets to be cool and badass, but because this isn’t written just by Kawahara others do as well, and it’s a nice balanced effort that focuses on heroine Premiere. I also really liked the point where all the NPCs are worried when everyone has to log out for several days for maintenance. While I’ll still remember this as the “SAO only everyone is alive” manga, I enjoyed reading it, when I wasn’t confused. – Sean Gaffney

By: Ash Brown

[bribe-the-door]

Cat Got Your Tongue?

The one where Harry asks a question you both know the answer to, but you’re too shy to say “please?”.

a/n: helloooooo cupcakes!!! it’s been a good long bit since i’ve written anything along the lines of steamy or smutty but ... hopefully this banter between sub!y/n and soft dom!h will make up for it. this definitely has the potential to have a second part, but let me know what you think!! love love love, M xx

words: 2.1k

warnings: none

_____________________________________________

“What is it, love?”

You froze, suddenly aware of your position: pouting lips, eyes tracing Harry’s every move.

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed and he set the coffee mug down, the rag he’d been using to dry dishes with beside it. “Nothing?” His tone wasn’t accusatory; more concerned than anything.

“I’m fine,” you said, straightening up and sitting timidly on the barstool. Its metal seat was cool against the backside of your legs.

“Okay.”

Harry turned back to the pile of dishes he’d been picking away at for a few minutes now, the clinks and tinny clangs of the silverware the only noises in the kitchen. He’d pick one up and then run it under the water, scrubbing more intensely over stubborn spots than others, and then set it beside the sink basin to try. It was innocent enough, doing the dishes.

The thing that’d surely send you to Hell and back was the way you focused in on the muscles of his shoulders. How they tended to pick something up, swelling under his shirt, and how Harry would roll his shoulders every once and awhile, often times accompanied with a neck roll or a quick sigh.

Not even the way you focused on him, but the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. It was so painfully obvious how turned on you were… [‘still’ were, in Harry’s eyes, even after a late night (and even later morning) of sex].

All kinds—in the shower, in bed, slow and warm, even fast and rough (and the kind that left your legs wobbly the next day, muscles more like gelatin than anything of strength). You ached between your legs, possibly confusing the soreness of your hips for arousal, but the spitfire of lust welling up inside of your tummy.

It wasn’t ‘nothing’—you both knew that.

You also knew Harry wasn’t going to be the one to call your bluff. Being horny was something he was almost proud of on any given day. Hardy boasted about it, not with words, but through actions and his presence around you. He also never failed to mention how he found it endearing, the ways that you became bashful and embarrassed over something so human.

You shifted in your seat again, pressing your thighs together in any attempts to suppress the growing need between your hips. It was no use, honestly, and your quick sigh caused Harry to turn again; this time with an all-knowing smirk pressing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re actin’ quite odd, baby,” He leaned up against the counter and threw the dish rag over his shoulder. The window behind him silhouetted the small curls atop his head—he looked like an angel. “Are you surethere isn’t anything bothering you? Haven’t stopped squirmin’ around over there since we finished breakfast.”

It was like pulling teeth at this point. He knew exactly what he was up to. But the pest in him had no intentions of stopping any time soon.

“Well?”

“I said,” you emphasized your point with an indirect nod at the counter, unable to make eye contact with the interrogator across the kitchen. “I’m fine, this seat just isn’t very comfortable.”

Harry hummed in response: he wasn’t satisfied with your answer. The resonating vibrations low in his throat said ‘liar!’ or ‘she’s fibbing!’.

“Honest!”

He mocked your tone back at you as if he were a tropical bird, repeating the most unnecessary things.

Closing the space between you, Harry made his way over to where you sat at the bar. He leaned in on the counter with leisure and intently looked you up and down. You could feel his gaze burning along your skin as it prickled up into goosebumps and waited as if you were his prey. He’d glued you to the seat with a simple stare.

The dish towel fell into a soft pile on the marble in front of Harry, catching your own gaze as it slipped from his shoulder, and you laughed nervously. The wheels were turning in his head, but he remained wordless.

A steady drum of you heart against your ribs kept the time but left it unmeasured. Seconds dribbled into minutes but the nerves continued to constrict inside of you.

Maybe you’d get choked out by your own nervous system, you thought. Sounded miles less regrettable than having to admit to something as small as being needy.

“Think you’re lyin’ t’me.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. “What?”

“You’re an open book, y/n,” Harry propped his chin up with one hand, the other tracing tiny circles on the marble. He was thinking out loud, distractly moving. Harry was always doing something—writing or doodling, tapping his foot or bobbing his knee—this was no different. “Never this fidgety unless you’ve got somethin’ t’tell me or you’re anxious to leave somewhere. Which…,” Harry looked up at you, fingers stopped. “Judging by the time of day, y’can’t be late for much.”

You threw your head back in a groan only to come face-to-face with his cheeky smirk once again.

“Y’can just say it, love. No one’s here to judge.”

“I know… I just—!”

“Want me to fuck you again?” Harry interrupted.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked, covering your face with both hands. Blood prickled under the surface of your skin, tempting you to hold your hands there longer.

Probably forever.

Or, at least until Harry wasn’t a few inches from your face, teasingly waiting for you to break.

“So bashful today,” Harry said after a moment, voice low. “Such a shame the cat’s got your tongue, love… All you’ve got to do is ask.”

The rush of blood to your head had rushed otherplaces as well; your heart, your ears, your cunt. He damn well knew exactly what he was up to, and had no notion of mercy in his inflated ego today. Not a single drop.

Your face was still covered when you felt a hand gently pry at your wrist. Holding back a giggle, you tensed under the blind touch and tried to hold your own, but it was no use. Harry was always stronger than you, no matter how hard you worked. He was propped up on both elbows now, a devilish sneer on his cheeky face as he held your wrists hostage. You looked as if you were prepping to do a chest press with a set of weights, the way he held your arms at perfectly vertical angles.

“Now,” Harry cocked his head to the side. He studied over your face intently for a few seconds before creeping in closer and brushing the tip of his nose to your cheek. You could feel his breath on your jaw as he became impossibly close, quite literally nosing over your cheekbones and avoiding your lips every time. His mouth hovered over yours maybe a centimeter away; a distance that you could have easily closed with a simple dart forward, but didn’t dare in his current grasp. “What do you want to ask me?”

When you didn’t answer and instead tried to pull a quick one on him, the intensity of the closeness between the lot of you became too much. He chuckled, letting go of your wrists. “Don’t think that’s what I asked, love.”

The dish towel was back in his hand, and he swung it around in a circle, wringing it up and letting it unravel a few times over.

“You’re impossible.”

“Think you’rebeing the stubborn one, babe,” he snickered. “Rude, actually. Haven’t answered a single question of mine all morning.”

“I answered—!”

“—Answered truthfully.” The towel landed with a thwack!against the counter in attempts to pull your gaze up to his.

It worked.

“And it’s a damn shame that you won’t,” he shrugged. “Because you know I’d happily consider what you have to ask.”

“I can’t just sayit, Harry.”

“Sure y’can.”

Your heart, which hadn’t slowed much since he’d held your wrists hostage, picked up again. Rattling inside of your ribs with such fervor you were concerned as to what would happen once he touched you. Ifhe touched you.

Harry rounded the corner of the island you’d perched yourself at. His arrogance and power seethed from his posture. He wrung up the towel again, this time playfully swatting at you.

“Haven’t had much problem in the past saying things like this, love.”

You shrieked as the towel came for your leg again, harder this time. “This is … different.”

“I don’t see how,” Harry’s tone was questionable. “You should tell me.”

“Harry, are you—!”

The towel came toward your leg each time you hesitated to answer or held any sort of reserve in your voice. It quickly became less about the dishes, and moreabout the game between the both of you. “Serious, love.” He held back a grin but couldn’t help but let it slip as you fell into a nervous laugh.

He cocked his head to the side, silently affirming that, yes, he wanted you to answer and, no, he wasn’t kidding. Another playful swat came toward your hip, only making Harry suppress more laughter as you grew visibly needier.

“What is it? You’re an open book, baby,” he said, pressing his lips into a false pout. “Can’t help you if y’don’t use your words.”

Anticipation and needchurned deep in your abdomen, stifled only by the embarrassing task of askingto be touched. He only did it because he knew what kind of power it held over your head and how easily a mess he could make you by asking such vague questions. Normally Harry wouldn’t hold out this long—he would have already pressed you up against a wall and kissed you so deeply foreplay wasn’t even necessary (though it washis favorite part).

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly had to mutter the pitiful and pleading words of “I want you to fuckme”, and you honestly didn’t know if you had the courage to ask.

Judging by your sudden silence, Harry switched tactics.

Switching out the playful towel bit for a softer and more encouraging demeanor, he stepped in closer and stood between your knees as you sat on the stool. He took your chin in his hand and gently lifted your gaze to his.

“Y’know m’just doin’ this because you’re cute, hm?” He asked.

You nodded, overcome with safety and ease in the way his eyes swallowed you up whole.

“Good,” Harry thumbed over your cheek, continuing to keep his voice low. “Now, s’only a few simple words, baby—.”

“I know,” you laughed, trying to push his hand away.

“—Like,” Harry looked up for a second, counting in his head. “Five? Six? S’all it is.”

A sigh relaxed your shoulders, almost out of defeat.

“Can y’do that for me?” By this time, he’d moved in even a few inches closer, his free hand resting on your thigh. “Jus’ a few words.”

Butterflies were fully fluttering through your belly at this point, but your eyes were locked in his. It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable with asking; not even close. You wantedthis, you’d brought it up, though subtly, and Harry’d picked up on it. He wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to.

He paused, waiting.

They were quiet at first, but they’d come out of your mouth.

“Hm?”

“I said,” you drew in a deep breath. “Will you please touch me?”

The smile on Harry’s face was genuine, not out of lust or surprise, but happiness.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

____________________________________________

so ... part two? ;) xx

feedback is encouraged (and very much so welcomed!)

[shaekingshitup]

My Type

A/N: I finally did it! There are probably hella typos because the app I was writing this in kept on autcorrecting everything. But I tried to clean em up. I can already think of things I wanna do differently. But i’m just happy that I’m being consistent and doing something. I ACCIDENTALLY PUT IN A “KEEP READING” JUST BEFORE I POSTED THIS. WOW. How did I do that?

Edit: I learned how I put the “Keep Reading” there and I am re-posting because my old blog was trash thanks to staff.

Songs I was listening to try and get me in the mood for this fic are here. But I trust your imagination to feel what a club setting is like. You ain’t gotta press play boo,

Warning: cursing, “the - n word”

Dani was out there givin it her all. She had to because she knew the DJ was gettin ready to spin this Petey Pablo single into her summer anthem. That shit would have her goin nuts in no time.

Hennessy on my lips

“Oh bitch, this is yo shit!” screamed Rachelle, digging in between her breasts to pull out her phone. She always had to take it to the Snap.

Hennessy on my lips

The DJ was messing with them at this point. This was about to be the third time he had teased Dani with the first line of the song. If he kept playin, she was gone have a lot of words for him in the parking lot when his set was over. She hated when they did that shit.

Hennessy on my lips, take a little sip

Privacy on the door, I'ma make the shit grip

Rachelle was hollering, “Ayyyyyy, that’s my best frannnd!” loud enough for damn near everyone in the club’s attention to be drawn to Dani.

As if someone had flipped a switch, Dani started twerkin like her life depended on it. You would have thought she was auditioning to be the lead for City Girls’ Twerk music video. All the ladies were on the floor shaking their asses. But no one was out there throwin it in circles the way Dani was- and she knew it.

Rich nigga, eight-figure, that’s my type

That’s my type, nigga that’s my type

Eight-inch big, ooh, that’s good pipe

Bad bitch, I'ma ride the dick all night

Dani was in a full squat pretending like she really had something or rather someone to ride on the floor with her. She was glad she’d chosen to rock her black romper with the white vertical stripes and the denim jacket to go over it instead of her bodycon dress. If she’d put that on tonight, the fabric would be around her waist at this very moment. Typically, she was so engrossed in her song that she didn’t even take into account the rest of the world. But this time was different. She felt…off. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. Glancing up to the V.I.P. balcony she saw why. There was one fine ass man watching her get down. He was leaning on the guard rail devouring her with his eyes as if she was his personal seven-course meal. Dani couldn’t look away. His gaze was far too intense and he held a beguiling smolder she couldn’t begin to match. Not in public in front of all of these strangers at least.  

The moment the song was over, Dani straightened up and this nigga had the audacity to wink at her as she made her exit from the dance floor. She turned and grabbed Rachelle by the hand so they could re-fuel at the bar. Her Fairy Thot Mother really brought out the best in her. Yet every time the song was over, she needed a moment to recuperate. Sipping her Between the Sheets, Dani had to yell at Rachelle to get her attention again. Her gaze was fixated on the V.I.P level and who she could make out up there.

“Rachelle, are you listening to anything I am saying to your ass?” Dani fussed.

“Danica Albany Jones. Yo ass should know by now that I can multitask better than most can focus on one task for the rest of their lives. I hear you. You had a fine ass nigga scoping you out while you was getting it and now you’re tryna to make your dance floor fantasy a reality,” Rachelle stated still focused on the balcony.

“Fantasy? Nobody said all dat!” she kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes at Rachelle’s antics. She hated when Rachelle listened to her without looking at her. It was rude as hell and even more frustrating when the bitch was able to repeat everything she’d uttered just moments before.

“Got em!” Rachelle shouted turning back to Dani. Trying to play it cool, Dani forced herself to avert her eyes from the balcony and waited for her to clarify. “Damn, I can’t believe he really in her with that trick Trina.” Immediately, Dani slanted her eyes at her about-to-be replaced best friend.

“You really are out here checkin for Shad? I thought you were done messin with his ass?” Dani loved her best friend and she knew she was a woman on a mission. She wanted a man with a bag. She was strategic about it all and not subtle by any means. She could always tell you who was in the V.I.P section and had that shit mapped out like she drew up the damn blueprint herself. She had messed with a few ballers and other money makers. But she was perpetually stuck on stupid with Shad. He didn’t even meet the criteria for her future husband. But, the dude must have made up for what he lacked in height and net worth in the bedroom because Rachelle was rarely able to stay away for long.

“Don’t worry about what I’m doing tonight. Yo scary ass needs to go find yo stalker.” Rachelle shot back. As if she summoned the devil himself, Dani turned her head to his section and saw him eyeing her again. Once he realized he had her attention, he beckoned her up to his section with a slight head tilt towards the bouncer at the V.I.P entrance.

“Did you-“ before she could even get it out, Rachelle was downing the rest of her drink and pulling Dani towards the staircase.

“Just follow me, I know the area.” Rachelle threw over her shoulder as they wove through the crowd. Dani rarely went out- let alone found herself in the V.I.P section of any club so she held on a little tighter to Rachelle’s hand as they approached the bouncer.

“Hey Mike,” Rachelle offered peeping past him to the booth so she could see Shad occupying a smaller booth with Trina sitting on his knee.

“Rachel. How you doin tonight? I see you brought a new friend” Big Mike countered. He knew her name was Rachelle just like she knew his names was Big Mike. So long as she continued to call him out of his name, Big Mike was determined to do the same. Petty sees as petty does.

“Danica” Dani said a she extended her hand and smiled up at Big Mike. Already she’d won him over faster than Rachelle’s ass ever could. Big Mike turned around and verified that there was someone else on the other side of the velvet rope expecting the ladies. When E provided a nod of approval. He let the ladies inside.

Dani had no idea what had come over her. Granted she didn’t go out often, but it wasn’t like she’d never encountered the opposite sex before this evening. Walking up the stairs towards this man was proving to be a more difficult feat than she’d ever imagined as her legs seemed to be gelatinizing with each step she took. Or maybe it was the alcohol. She had consumed a few shots of Henny at this point. Within V.I.P, Dani could see that he had a few booths for him and his people to occupy. Dani couldn’t even begin to take in his mini kingdom he’d established because she was too preoccupied by how good he looked up close. His short dreads were neatly pulled back into a ponytail towards the back of his head and on his frame he adorned a long white tee, an Amiri distressed denim jacket and a black pair of drop crotch jeans that didn’t do well to help her keep her eyes from droppin below his waist line. What distracted Dani the most, was the gold rimmed wire frames he adorned which were quite similar to her own pair. Gold was her favorite color and she loved it even better against some melanin. As she took the final steps to be in his presence, he called out “Hey, lil mama” welcoming her with a partial smile and a glimpse of his golds in the bottom row of throne-er mouth. If it weren’t for Rachelle tugging her around in that very moment she would have surely collapsed into his arms. Instead, as Rachelle turned her around to tell her some final piece of advice she ended up crushing her ass into his hand. Which, may not have been too much of an issue if his white shirt hadn’t taken on the amber brown from his Hennessy as a result.

“Fuck! Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry” Dani began as she stood bug eyed in from of this adonis of a man. He lifted up his shirt to assess the damage and see if it was soaked through thoroughly.

You’ve got to be kidding me. This man can’t be this fine at first glance and have a body like that. How many packs is that? 6? 8? Do they even got a word for that? Damn Dani get it together. You’re staring. Stop staring.

He chuckled. He was bemused by the situation. Nah by her.

Reach for her waist her bent out and growled, “Imma be right back. You and yo girl make yourself comfortable in the back booth,”  as he disappeared down the steps.

“Biiiitttchhh, how drunk are you?” Rachelle asked.

“I only had 1 shot of Henny and that Between the Sheets in the 2 hours we’ve been here. Why?” Dani questioned looking confused as hell. Rachelle should have been saying sorry. It was her fault that Dani’s ass ended up in the stranger’s hand anyways. Rachelle cut her eyes at her friend.

“Because the way you were talking about his body was bold as fuck when you don’t even know his name,” Rachelle cackled. She was low-key proud of her girl.  

“Aww fuck. I said that shit out loud? What kind of friend are you for letting me ramble on like that?!” Dani whisper yelled.

“The kind that’s about to put you on game,” Rachelle quipped back, “Okay so to your left you have the Hip Hop Descendants. These are all of the people who got daddies and mamas in the game. The only reason anyone puts up with them is because they parents are the pioneer of Hip Hop, Rap and everything in between as we know it. Some of em had a single or their own tv show coming up. But, if it wasn’t for their DNA we would all say IDC”

“Wait what about Shad? He’s over there and last time I checked his parents were just regular degular people like you and me,” Dani posed.

“Shad is unique in that he was in the game at a young age and just grew up in the industry,” Rachelle supplied.

“Okay. So Shad is the Aladdin of the Descendants because his parents weren’t present in the Hip Hop industry”

“I won’t even acknowledge that. Moving on, in the middle you have Black By Popular Demand. These are the people who the media thinks are Black purely due to association. These hoes got here because they all know how to suck, ride or have a nigga by they side. In doing so, Hollywood calls them trendsetters rather than Culture Vultures and let’s them act out as they please. We don’t really fuck with them or their crews.”

“Is that a Kardashian?”

“They always got at least one of them in that group. To your right, are your Single Housewives”

“That don’t make sense. How are you a housewife and single?”

“If you would stop interrupting, I would be done with my explanations by know.”

“Okay okay. I’m sorry Janice. Continue please,” that made Rachelle laugh.

“You so stupid. Okay as I was saying on your right are the Single Housewives. Most can be found on a segment which is currently airing on VH1 or trying to secure someone to get them on the network. They may have been a housewife or a girlfriend and some point, but for now they just opportunistic.” Dani keeps her word and doesn’t say anything. But she knew exactly where Rachelle was going to make a beeline for later on in the evening.

“Last but not least, we have the section we are in right now: The Heavy Hitters. The niggas in this section got bank. I’m talking numerous sources of income. Collectively, they could probably wipe out Cali’s debt. And from what I’ve heard, the one who is chosey with you ain’t just got big bank he got a real fat-“

“Y’all ladies good over here?” he said as he returned to his private booth.

“Yes,” they sang in a chorus. Somehow he’d managed to find an even more expensive white tee in the few minutes he’d been gone.

“Cool. We ain’t get to introduce ourselves earlier, I’m Erik,” he said picking up the carafe of Henny and a glass gesturing to Dani and Rachelle.

“I’m Rachelle and I’ll take mine’s to go,” she said extending her hand. She took it, saying her goodbyes and heading straight to the Single Housewives section where she was directly in Shad’s line of sight. She really thought she was slick.

Dani turned to find those eyes roaming her frame for the third time this evening.

“I’m Dani…and I’ll take a lil bit,” she managed to get out as he maintained his contact with her. He never broke it even as he offered her the glass, poured his own and sat down right next to her on the sectional.

“Okay lil bit”

“What’s that mean?”

He smirked. “It means, “he said while placing his hand on her thigh, “you really bout it this evening. Ain’t nothin bout you little. Yo shit match my shit and you won’t take them sexy ass eyes off me. That’s My Type indeed”

[crystalized-dreams]

Will you ever upload more abyssrium or word villas or some other mobile games?

In general, mobile games are really tricky to record. I used to have a fairly decent program I used-- Side Sync, but it’s been discontinued and is now broken. I can still kind of use it (as I did with my recent Pocket Camp video and the STYLIT video), but it’s a huge pain and skews the video entirely as essentially the vertical game is being shown squished into a horizontal perspective. There is no fix. 

I haven’t found a program that works for my needs. The closest I can find either have a monthly fee (I don’t mind buying something once, but I don’t use things enough to justify a monthly fee), some kind of recording mark over the video and/or will record sound through the microphone. I actually generally play mobile games muted and live in a very loud house so that helps no one. Or they aren’t for screen sharing at all and are really just to get your emails/alerts which I don’t need.

And Samsung Flow, Side Sync’s replacement, is honestly terrible. I can’t get it to work. 

While I could consider an emulator, the issue there is not all games properly carry over progress and my computer is slowly having more issues and just can’t always run them. I do try to use an Emulator for games where I know I will play for a long time, but it can be pretty glitchy (Using Choices and Hogwarts Mystery as examples, my progress isn’t always properly saved and sometimes I have to redo things on my phone after). 

As for the games you specifically asked about, being completely honest, I don’t think I’d be uploading more of Abyssrium or Word Villas regardless as, to put it nicely, both have became a bit too greedy for me. 

Before I go into it, I want to say I never have an issue with putting money into a game I enjoy. I’ve spent a lot on Abyssrium and a fair amount on Word Villas. But I have very little patience with subscriptions for one and I just... haven’t enjoyed a lot of choices either game has made recently (of the two, despite playing Abyssrium longer, I think Word Villas has made me more upset about the direction they’ve gone). 

This will also get quite long, so....

My first worry with Abyssrium came with the pearls. I dislike second currencies and we already had some expensive things (they had a Mermaid for $100 for crying out loud, but they at least seemed to be slowing down with that). Next were some of the event features... like the 150 gift boxes for an event fish. That is A LOT of constantly logging in and I am very much a “let be just be done ASAP and be good” person (I’ll be talking about this more in an upcoming entry) so the added walls were another thing really making me kind of anxious about Abyssrium.

Then they added subscriptions. No ads (which with the amount of their stupid events that required you to watch ads now was HUGE to save time) and the adorable Puffin taunted me, as I had every other fish up to this point. I couldn’t justify $7 a week for that though so I only ever temporarily did the subscription whenever an event happened.

And thus our problem-- we started getting monthly events. Which included a $10-$20 exclusive new species (and sometimes even a second one for you to spend even more money on). And also new dailies which removed more accessible pearl getting, but also were another layer to these events as every single one would have a whole second set of objectives with one that required you to complete 3 Dailies in a row. 

I rarely did the dailies, partially due to my burnt out issues when it comes to monotonous tasks, but also because I find tapping incredibly painful. So I was killing my wrist every single event. And that adds up fast.

It was just too much to keep track of. And then they added in a gacha system too that cost event currency or materials and it just... it was too much. This was too much every month and like why I dropped Pocket Camp (and now only really check in for the special gifts), I just couldn’t take a chance to breathe. 

Adding in Abyssrium Pole just made it worse which continued some of the worst parts of the original while also making things even slower at times and it’s a shame as there’s some really neat things they did with it, but it was just annoying. 

This doesn’t even go into all the other little intricacies I had with some events (Like having to create more than one of each or remake ones I already had because of some objective), but it was just exhausting. 

----

As for Word Villas... Just... ugh, I think what really breaks my heart with this is I LOVE decorating games, but I HATE Match Three′s with a passion so this was so much more my speed and they just had to ruin it. I don’t know if I’ll ever find a replacement either because for some reason every single time someone makes a decoration-based game, they have Match Three firmly printed on their forehead. 

I’m going to bullet-print this one because none of it really requires the long description as Abyssrium did for the most part, but it’s just a lot of frustrations and the fact that they just didn’t seem to care about their fans up to this point.

Constant events. Some people hated these events as they just wanted more rooms, but I actually really enjoyed them! The issue mainly came as they were just, like Abyssrium’s issue, happening constantly. I would’ve been fine with a break of no updates, but it was getting a bit exhausting to constantly be doing event stuff... Especially as the events generally required 60 levels minimum to get everything (Some only required 40 but it was still a lot) and it was just tiring to power through so many due to the limited time.

Similarly, there was a glitch with the Chinese New Year/Lunar New Year event and not everyone even got the photo, yet they were never able to fix this. 

We also started getting Competitive Events which nobody really seemed to want? Myself included. The game was a solo game. This was entirely pointless and making some items only available to the person in first was super scummy, especially when some people were already out of levels and thus, couldn’t keep going for that #1 spot in the first place. 

The Blossom Problem - Blossoms are no longer even in the game, having been replaced by Blue tickets which you can only get randomly through certain things ooor by buying them with a premium currency that you can only get with real money... yet these are now used to get things the blossoms were-- Collectibles that can be used as decorations in various house areas. Some people had over 50,000 blossoms built up only for them to be dumped. They kept asking for more things to be used on. Blossoms were only gotten for hitting certain combo streaks and while not having the combo streak pressure is nice, it’s still a huge slap in the face to long-term players who saved up. 

The writing is kind of spotty. In all honesty, I glance over this a lot as I like the characters quite a bit, but anytime the main character talks with her best friend about dieting and not wanting to get fat when they’re super thin, I just cringe. The dialogue is unneeded. It’s a game for crying out loud. And honestly, proof reading is needed. 

They did recently let use customize the MC’s appearance to an extent, but we still can’t change her eye color or skin color and hairstyles are set to whatever color they are. But we can’t adjust her sleepwear appearance... 

The Premium Currency - There’s just... no ways to get this in-game (or if there are, I have not found them and it’s definitely not much) and yet they keep adding more things that require them. 

New Visual Novel feature? Every choice that is somewhat romantic or just not being awful requires it. And this is a shame as I’d genuinely love to read some. 

Furniture options you like? Might require it. (Heck, the only other option in the current “limited” boardwalk decorating does each time). 

Certain customization options? Require it. 

As a note, I’m not even necessarily against premium currencies as long as the prices are fair and it’s possible to earn in-game too, but otherwise when your game has a huge focus on customization and/or collecting, it’s essentially pay to win and that’s a problem. 

My biggest issue as we get more and more currencies though is the main one often ends up taking a backseat because of it. 

As I mentioned above with Abyssrium, I have no issue purchasing games, but I think having to repeatedly pay to remove ads is super dumb and getting ads between rounds is so annoying, but I don’t always play enough to justify paying every month to remove ads. I also just find it kind of distasteful. 

The upped star costs. I get that I’m pretty far in, but needing 3 minimum to 4 or 5 Stars at a time now to do things is honestly just kind of boring. I liked to do bursts of levels than story, but now I just have to do too many levels to do that and I can’t switch off enough to keep myself from getting burnt out. 

The stupid mission pass thing. Let. People. Play. At. Their. Own. Pace. And don’t prevent rewards just because people won’t pay for the premium version... there shouldn’t even be two versions. 

Too grindy. Too many levels needed for so many things (events, the stupid competitive stuff, etc.) and it’s just exhausting. 

The constant events also really did just end up burning me out in and off itself and then running out of my “no ads” time period due to how little I’m playing just gets me more discouraged. I used to be up to date, but I’ve been behind due to the larger costs and lack of time (and then the ad issue and ugh). I can’t even bother with most of their events lately as it just isn’t fun. 

[lovehomedecorideas-blog]

How to decorate your home creatively?

Imagination is as valuable as a big budget when it comes to transforming your home. Besides, you've likely accumulated enough accessories over the years to fill a shop—buying any more would only contribute to clutter. "All the visual chaos is stressful and distracting," says Lauri Ward, home design expert and author of Use What You Have Decorating. So step one is to clear as many surfaces as possible. And once you do, steal these no-cost tips to dress up every room.

1. Turn a stool into a side table.

Re purpose a seat into a handy stand, perfect for pulling up alongside a sofa or easy chair. Try one on its own, or cluster a few (even varied heights work). And remember less is more: Allow the rest of the room to be basic—try an unadorned table and sparsely decorated walls—so the quirky chairs stand out.

living room sets under $500 https://www.justdiydecor.com/livingroom-decor-ideas/top-5-living-room-furniture-sets-under-500/

2. Change your chairs.

Matching dining sets can feel humdrum over time. Trade a couple of seats from the kitchen with ones in the dining room. Place them at the head or center of the table so the effect looks intentional.

3. Take advantage of open shelves.

Pull out your pretty pitchers or patterned plates and arrange them to be admired.

4. Rearrange lamps and shades.

Swap a bedside lamp with one from your desk or the living room, or simply switch the shades for a different look.

5. Redo a whole room.

Play around with your furniture configuration—reposition a sofa, rotate a rug, or try dividing the room with an open-backed bookcase or storage unit. Leave sections of the shelf empty to let light through.

6. Think creatively.

Use a glass jar as a vase, group ottomans as a coffee table, or try a pretty basket to hold a plain planter.

lighting ideas for living room with no ceiling light https://www.justdiydecor.com/livingroom-decor-ideas/top-8-lighting-ideas-for-living-room-with-no-ceiling-light/

7. Style your bookshelf.

Since messy shelves can make an entire room look disorganized, pretty yours up. The foolproof way: Arrange hardcover books from tallest to shortest on most shelves. Lay a few too-tall books (or any other books) flat to serve as bookends to keep the others in place. "Add decorative items such as pottery or framed photos to one or two shelves," says Ward. "You don't want accessories on every shelf or it appears cluttered." Use baskets or boxes to hide unattractive DVDs or paperbacks (or stash these elsewhere). Leave empty space on some shelves here and there so the eye has a place to rest.

8. Create visual symmetry.

You likely buy decorating items as matching duos, and that's smart: Pairs add balance and tranquility to a room, says Ward. But if you don't have two of a kind, make dissimilar items look more alike. For instance, place a shorter lamp on a book stack to coordinate with a taller lamp. Or use pieces of comparable height and size, such as a small trunk and an end table, to flank a chair.

minimalist bedroom on a budget https://www.justdiydecor.com/bedroom-decor-ideas/minimalist-bedroom-ideas-on-a-budget/

9. Bring outdoor furnishings inside.

Wicker, wrought iron and decorative aluminum furniture can create a garden-, coastal-, beach- or cottage-themed space inside. "By using my favorite outdoor accessories indoors, I get to enjoy them year-round instead of for a few short months," says Emma Kippen of Dennis Port, MA. Bonus: Outdoor furniture is easy to clean and nearly indestructible. Bring in sisal rugs, baker's racks and plant stands too; they're just as functional and attractive indoors as they are out.

10. Arrange unique tablescapes.

Design mini-vignettes on tables, mantels or buffets with keepsakes, from china to figurines. "There's no point in keeping interesting items if no one ever sees them," says Ward. Group similar objects, such as mercury glass or colored bottles, together; single items often get lost among other elements in a room. Stack some pieces at different heights on top of books or a wooden box. Or use a decorative tray or trivet to pull together items to make them appear as a collection.

11. Go natural.

"I love to decorate with items I find in my own yard or while on vacation," says Sherry Mathews of St. Petersburg, FL. "One of my favorite displays is a large piece of driftwood in a shadow box." Other ideas: Line the mantel with large, smooth river rocks. Fill a clear, lidded storage container with tiny stones or shells to make bookends. Display a bird's nest as part of a tablescape. Tie together long, slender tree branches and lean against the walls in a corner. Fill a hurricane glass with dried moss, acorns or seedpods.

12. Pull from other rooms.

You hardly ever use that large platter, so rescue it from storage and hang it on the living room wall. Draft your soup tureen into service as an accent piece in the family room. Or use ceramic garden pots or pretty teacups to corral soaps and cotton balls in your bathroom or earrings on your bedroom dresser. Doilies or decorative tablecloths can be draped over curtain rods as no-sew window dressings. A seldom-used ice bucket or log carrier can hold hand towels in the guest bath.

13. Design a gallery.

Everybody knows you can cover a wall with family photos or artwork, but what else can you group to make a statement? "Use what makes you feel happy in your space," suggests Ward, but make each gallery feel unified by sticking to a single theme. For example, hang wire and rattan baskets or postcards on the dining room wall. Display cooking tools such as antique egg beaters, a Bundt pan, cookie cutters or whisks on the kitchen wall. Tack up a few pretty but never-used placemats one under another in a column to span a vertical space. Space them equally and go for symmetry.

urban kitchen decor https://www.justdiydecor.com/kitchen-decor-ideas/10-urban-kitchen-drawer-storage-ideas/

14. Reuse holiday decor.

Why bury traditions in the closet 11 months out of every year? "I keep our artificial Christmas tree up year-round and decorate it with seasonal accents," says Teri Gay of Charlton, NY. "It's a way to simplify because I never have to take it down, and we celebrate each season with garlands of red hearts for Valentine's Day, shamrocks for St. Patrick's Day, leaves for autumn and so on." Or use Easter baskets to hold fruit on your table. After Halloween, scoop out whole pumpkins to use as vases for floral displays (slip a glass bowl inside to hold water).

15. Rotate and rearrange accessories.

"When you live with something a long time, you don't see it anymore," says Ward. So put it away for a little while and fall in love with it again when you take it back out. Or swap out items, such as pillows and throws, from one room to another to change up the look. Also, move around small pieces of furniture within a room. For example, slide two end tables together to make a coffee table or use a small chest as an end table. You won't believe how different a room can look with the very same things in them.